


More Than Words

by fanoftheknight



Series: More Than Words [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst - in places, Content that some people might find difficult/upsetting, F/M, Fluff - in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-09-19 04:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 78,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20325058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight
Summary: Modern-day AU.Jorah hadn't expected such a beautiful woman sitting in his seat when he arrived that morning. Could a chance meeting turn into something much more?PLEASE READ THE NOTES SECTION FOR CHAPTER ONE BEFORE READING





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I had promised myself that I would hold off on posting this story until I had completed AKFTSK, but I have been writing chapters like they are going out of fashion lately.
> 
> As this is still a work in progress, I can't guarantee that I can update it more than once a week at the moment, but I will do the best I can to update regularly.
> 
> This is my first attempt at a modern-day AU story, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> **I feel I should also make it clear that this story may have content which some people may find upsetting.**

Jorah Mormont entered the familiar surroundings, surprised to see it much busier than usual. 

He’d been coming here for a number of weeks and had learned quickly that the sooner you arrived, the better seat you would get. He would be here for most of the day and it was important to him that he was able to get a good view of the beautiful gardens outside.

It was winter, but the deciduous birch and cherry trees still looked beautiful at this time of year. The groundskeeper could often be seen tending to the lawns, even in the pouring rain, determined to keep the grounds looking their best.

Perhaps everyone else had started to catch on to his plan. He grumbled to himself when he realised his favourite seat had gone. In his place sat a beautiful woman with the most striking eyes he had ever seen. Her hair was long and a luxurious shade of blonde. He found himself getting unaccountably nervous when she glanced up at him.

At a loss for what else to say, he gestured to the seat next to her.

“May I?”

She looked him up and down before a smile spread across her face.

“On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“You tell me your name.”

He let out a nervous breath, kicking himself for acting like a lovestruck teenager around this beautiful young woman.

He held out a hand to her, shaking it gently. “I’m Jorah.”

“Daenerys,” she responded and nodded at the seat next to her.

“That’s an unusual name for these parts,” Jorah responded, adjusting the legs of his trousers as he sat down.

“I’ve only been living here a year or two. I had to leave London pretty quickly…”

Her voice trailed off and he could see the pain in her eyes. He had only just met her and already he wanted to take her in his arms to reassure her and tell her that everything would be alright.

“Are you local?” She asked, changing the subject quickly.

“Aye,” he grinned. “What gave it away?”

Jorah had always hated his Edinburgh accent and had been teased mercilessly for it over the years. His youth had seen him travel to some far flung places across the world, but his time down in London had been when he’d had to put up with the worst of the ‘bantering’ about how he spoke. Lynesse and her so-called friends would often mimic some of the things he said when they thought he wasn’t listening or couldn’t hear them.

“I’ve always loved the accent,” she said as she looked longingly out of the window. “Edinburgh is a beautiful city.”

Maybe he didn’t really appreciate what was on his own doorstep, but he’d been desperate to leave the city after falling out with his father several years ago. After being made a widower by his first wife, his second had lured him to London with the promise of a fairytale life for the both of them. She had left him for another man, taking his honour and his heart with her as she fled.

With nothing to keep him in London, he’d returned to his home city with his tail between his legs, keeping out of sight of his father lest their paths should ever cross. He couldn’t bear to come face to face with him and see the look of disappointment that he knew he would find there.

He shook the painful memories from his mind as he turned to look at her. “I’ve not seen you here before.”

“This is my first time, actually,” she replied. He had the feeling that she was embarrassed to admit it.

A heavyset woman approached them, wearing an apron and holding a small note pad in her hand. “Jorah, how are you?”

He gave her a warm smile. “I’m good thanks, and you, Mary?”

She let out a small chuckle. “Oh, I can’t complain. I’m all the better for seeing your handsome face here again today.”

He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing that Mary was deliberately flirting with him in front of his new companion.

“And who do we have here?” Mary asked, turning her attention to the young woman sitting next to him.

“Daenerys.”

Mary took the proffered hand, smiling at Jorah once more. “And what can I get both of you?”

Jorah looked at her. “Ladies first,” he offered.

“Coffee would be great,” she replied.

“Same for me please, Mary.”

“Coming right up,” Mary made a note on the pad, calling over her shoulder as she left, “You’re sitting in his seat, darling.”

He couldn’t help smiling when Daenerys held a hand to her chest, her cheeks flushing a deep red. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” she said as she made to stand.

He held up a hand to stop her. “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he said, his tone softly chiding her. “I’m more than happy here.”

She sat back down again. “I didn’t realise people were so territorial about things around here.” She shook her head.

“I’m sorry about Mary,” he said by way of apology. “Everyone tends to know everyone around here and they think it’s ok to get in each other’s business. It’s a local thing.”

“I guess I’ll just have to get used to it,” Daenerys replied. “I’m really sorry about taking your seat though.”

“It’s not my seat,” he told her. “On any other day someone else might be sitting there. It’s not like I own it or anything.”

“But you could,” Mary said as she brought their drinks over. “A man of your means should make the most of the advantages he’s been given.”

“Mary,” he growled lowly at her, although there was no menace behind it, only a sense of quiet resignation.

Daenerys stared at him and then at Mary with a bemused expression.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who you’re sitting next to, hen?”

He could feel Daenerys’ eyes on him once more, but this time she really looked at him. She shook her head.

“Should I?’

“Have you ever read A Song of Ice and Fire?” Mary asked.

Jorah tried to sink further into his chair as he heard Daenerys gasp.

“You’re Jorah Mormont?” She asked, “_The_ Jorah Mormont?”

He wanted to ground to open up and swallow him whole. He gave an imperceptible nod of the head, his eyes firmly on his feet.

He heard Mary let out a satisfied chuckle as she walked away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daenerys asked him.

He resisted the urge to look at her. “It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged, picking at some lint on his navy blue shirt.

“Not a big deal? Your books have been one of the only things that have gotten me through the past few years. You’re literally a lifesaver.”

“They’re just books,” he mumbled, his mind already going back to those dark days with Lynesse when writing had been his only source of escape from her cruel whims.

“You must be pretty famous around here.”

He fidgeted awkwardly. He was known for many things in these parts and few of them good. It had been one of the reasons why he’d run off to travel the world. No matter how far he roamed though, he’d never been able to outrun his past.

“I’m nothing special. Just a man, I’m afraid.” A shamed and dishonoured one at that.

He wasn’t particularly keen on the direction that their conversation was heading in.

“What do you do?”

He risked a quick glance at her and hoped she wouldn’t push him on the subject of himself any further.

“I’m a graphic designer. Freelance.” She took a sip of her coffee, wincing slightly at the bitter taste of the hot beverage. “Guess we’re both the creative type, huh?”

“Indeed.” He nodded, watching as the skies turned grey and suddenly opened, lashing the picturesque gardens with much-needed rain. He hoped it wasn’t a precursor to the day.

His thoughts had all too often turned to the melancholy since his return from London. He’d been a sucker for a pretty face and what he’d hoped was his dream coming true had quickly turned into a horrific nightmare with Lynesse.

It was pointless getting to know the woman sitting next to him. There was no way he wanted to risk his heart again. Lynesse had ripped it out and then stamped on it with her stilletos just for good measure. He’d picked up as many of the fractured pieces as he could, returning to Edinburgh to place them back together. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise, his heart would never fully heal from the damage Lynesse had caused him.

He should just sit quietly and watch the day go by, letting his mind wander as people milled about around him. There was solace in silence.

The young woman sitting next to him was only being polite, he told himself. She wasn’t really interested in him. It had been nothing more than coincidence that he’d found himself sitting next to her.

He told himself all of this and more and yet none of it seemed to matter. He was drawn to her like a magnet, no matter how much he tried to repel himself. There was something about her that coaxed his reluctant heart into wanting to know more about her.

His heart had been a poor judge of character in the past. In his mind, he knew that he would probably never see her again after today. Yet his head had yet to win a battle against his heart and he knew today would be no different. If today was all they had, he would make the most of it. He knew all too well how limited time could be.

“What are you here for?” He asked her as Mary returned with a tray, he winced as the needle entered his arm. He had always been unable to watch it go in.

“Breast cancer,” she said quietly, watching Mary hook a bag on the pole above his head. “You?”

“Testicular,” he replied, feeling the odd sensation of the chemotherapy medication entering his blood stream.

“Lucky us, huh?” She laughed humourlessly.

“I don’t know. I could think of worse people to be spending the day with.”

He suddenly felt he’d said too much. He’d been too forward with her. His heart sank.

She gave him a smile that lit up her whole face. It was the first time he’d seen her eyes look alive.

“Me too,” she agreed.


	2. Everybody's Got Somebody But Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were just two lonely people sitting in a hospital ward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, to say that I was blown away by the response to the first chapter would be an understatement.
> 
> I was nervous about posting it due to the sensitive subject matter but I have been delighted that it has received such a warm response. My only hope is that I can continue to do the subject matter justice throughout the rest of the story.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, or commented . You guys are awesome!

Jorah watched Mary repeat the same process on Daenerys, knowing all too well the stinging pain of the needle entering her vein.

“Is this your first treatment?” He asked, feeling the nausea clawing at his guts. It was one of the worst parts of the treatment process for him.

He could see how anxious she was. She was a young woman and not only that, she had no one there to support her. He remembered how nervous he’d been himself. Even being on the frontlines of a war zone wasn’t as daunting as experiencing chemotherapy for the first time.

“Does it show?”

He smiled through the twinge of pain he felt in his stomach as it rolled violently again.

He shook his head. “No, it’s just that you said it’s your first time here.”

She was slightly shocked that he’d remembered their earlier conversation. Most men she’d known had been interested in one thing - sex. After her previous experiences, it had made her wary and distrustful of any man who spoke to her.

And yet the man sitting next to her seemed different. His eyes spoke of kindness and empathy. It also didn’t hurt that he was handsome with it. His hair was hidden by a woollen hat, but she could see the strawberry blonde in his beard. There were laughter lines around his eyes, giving him the appearance of experience and wisdom.

She had sworn herself off of men ever since her disaster with Jon. She’d come to Edinburgh with the intention of forgetting London, forging a career for herself in a city where no one knew her name or her history. Things had been going well until she’d found the lump in her left breast.

Too frightened to do anything, she’d tried to ignore its presence for over a week, pretending that its existence wasn’t real. It hadn’t been until she’d called her old friend Missandei that she had plucked up the courage to go to the doctors.

The speed in which they’d given her an appointment at the breast clinic had taken her by surprise. It had only been a matter of days after visiting her doctor that she’d found herself having scans and blood tests at the hospital.

She’d known by the look on the specialist’s face that the news would not be good.

“The lump we found in your breast is a stage two malignant tumour, Miss Targaryen.”

Her world had tumbled to pieces around her as the specialist delivered the news. It was at times like this that she missed her mother the most.

She’d sat in stunned silence for a number of moments. “What happens now?”

No doubt the doctor had been experienced in delivering this kind of news to his patients. The middle-aged man looked at her and tried to give her an encouraging smile.

“The tumour is quite significant in terms of size, I’m afraid. We’ll need to perform a mastectomy as soon as possible.”

She’d felt the blood drain from her face. This was happening way too fast for her.

“You’ll remove it entirely?” She’d asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“We can look at reconstructive options after the chemotherapy treatment.”

She’d failed to recall much else of what the doctor had said after that. It had all just passed in a blur. Three days after her visit to the clinic, she’d found herself being wheeled into an operating theatre.

She’d woken up sore, crying, and alone. 

The nurses on the ward had given her sympathetic looks and told her that her teariness was due to the anaesthetic she’d been given for the surgery. They were unaware that her tears were of fear and the desolate loneliness she felt. Other women on the ward had supportive husbands and families sitting with them.

She’d had no one.

That had been twelve days ago.

Still sore from the surgery, she’d walked into the treatment room this morning feeling lower than she could ever recall. Jorah had changed everything in an instant as he asked to sit next to her.

He smiled at her again. Did he know what effect that was having on her?

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” he tried to reassure her.

“How many have you had?”

He tried to stifle the yawn escaping his lips. The chemo would always leave him exhausted for days.

“This is my third. I come here every Tuesday.”

He readjusted his hat. He’d taken to wearing it two weeks ago when he’d woken up one morning to find a handful of his hair on the pillow. He’d never been a particularly vain man, but he’d had enough on his plate dealing with his treatment without having to put up with concerned looks from other people. 

It was still winter, people wouldn’t question if someone was wearing a woollen hat. With any luck, his treatment would be over by the summer and his hair would have grown back again.

If the treatment worked.

“Has your hair started to fall out yet?”

His eyes had been closed as he felt another wave of nausea hit him, but they shot open at her question.

There was something about this woman that got under his defences. She had a way of disarming him with apparently little effort.

Her look of uncertainty gripped him more painfully than any of the cancer treatments he’d been through so far. He realised that she was terrified of losing her hair. This beautiful, entrancing woman had suddenly had her world ripped away from her. She was looking for any port in a storm, trying to cling desperately to anything that might anchor her.

“It might not happen to you.” He tried to sound reassuring and yet it was obvious why she was so scared. It was far easier for a man to have to deal with hair loss than it was a young woman in her prime. She should be out enjoying her life, not sitting in a cancer ward fretting about her appearance and how others would look at her.

Her shoulders seemed leadened. “I guess I should get used to the idea. One breast and no hair…I’m gonna be beating men away with a stick.”

Her self pity didn’t surprise him. He’d entertained many of the same dark thoughts since the day of his diagnosis. Who would want to date a middle-aged, cancer-stricken man who only had one ball?

“Are you kidding me?” He said, “Hair or no hair, you’re a beautiful young woman. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

She screwed her face up at his words. He’d said the wrong thing…yet again. When would he ever learn?

“I know what you’re doing…” He gave her his most innocent look. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m not trying anything, Daenerys. I’m just telling the truth.” His expression sobered. “You really are beautiful.”

She could see the sincerity in his eyes. This wasn’t just some ploy to get in her pants like it had been with most of the men she’d known. The man sitting next to her made her feel safe and warm.

“I bet you say that to all the girls in here,” she teased.

He shook his head. “Well, I tried it on Big Pete over there the other week but I don’t think he really appreciated it,” he deadpanned.

It was enough to make her laugh out loud as she saw the huge muscled man sitting several seats away from them.

She felt suddenly lonely as she watched Jorah close his eyes and let out a tired breath. Soon she also began to feel the effects of the chemotherapy drugs hitting her bloodstream.

Talking to him had made her feel so at ease, yet she was content to watch him doze for a while. Further into his treatment than she was, he was obviously feeling its cumulative effects - something she had to look forward to she supposed.

The sound of a metal tray crashing to the ground had brought him awake with a start. Jorah rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, I must have dozed off,” he said sheepishly as he sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m terrible company, I’m sure.”

She refused to dignify his self-pity with a response.

“Is anyone coming to pick you up when you’ve finished?”

His gaze fell to the floor as he shook his head. “No, I usually just call a cab to take me home.”

“You don’t have a wife….girlfriend?”

His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke. “Nope.”

“Seriously?” She asked incredulously.

He was confused by her response.

“I would have thought a handsome man like you would have been snapped up.”

He felt his cheeks flush painfully hot and red. 

“I’m a middle-aged man with one bollock. The ladies are hardly lining up to go out to dinner with me.”

“I would.”

He’d misheard her. There was no other explanation.

He’d been too shocked to say anything. He felt her squeeze his hand.

“I would, Jorah.”


	3. I'm Only Me When I'm With You

They’d gone their separate ways that afternoon and Jorah had convinced himself that he wouldn’t see her again. It had been a chance meeting, that was all.

It still didn’t stop him thinking about her nearly every day. He’d been bed-bound since his latest treatment, the nausea and exhaustion making even the simplest of tasks more than he could cope with.

He’d felt miserable, yet his thoughts kept returning to the gorgeous, mysterious Daenerys Targaryen who had sat with him and chatted the day away as the poisonous drugs ran through their veins.

He’d seen how terrified she was and he’d done his best to comfort her and to try to take her mind off what was an extremely unpleasant experience. Chemotherapy wasn’t easy for anyone, let alone a girl as sweet and innocent as her.

He’d been surprised at how easy it felt to talk to her. Once he’d gotten past his initial nervousness, Daenerys had a way of putting him at ease. They had chatted as if they were old friends. He had a strange feeling that they must have known each other in a past life. There was something about her that drew him in.

At least he’d been able to make her smile a few times. He doubted she even realised how her smile could light up a room. Her laugh was both seductive and endearing. And her eyes…he could find himself getting lost in those eyes for days.

He’d pulled himself from his bed this morning, clawing together the energy he needed to get dressed and head to the hospital for another round of chemo. Usually, he’d throw on anything he could find. He’d never really been concerned about his appearance but this morning he found himself standing in front of his open wardrobe wondering which shirt Daenerys would like the most.

She’ll never be interested in you, old man, he told himself as he shook his head, reaching for the pale yellow one.

After dressing in his favourite blue jeans and worn tan leather shoes, Jorah made his way to the bathroom. Two thirds of his hair had now fallen out. He looked at himself in the mirror, shocked at what he saw. There was no way he would ever take his hat off in front of Daenerys looking like that.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up his electric razor and held it to his head. 

There was something quite cathartic about watching his golden blonde hair fall into the sink. He ran the razor over his head several times until there was nothing but small amounts of stubble remaining on his scalp.

His eyes were sunken and his face paler than he’d ever remembered it being. He’d survived harsh winters in some of the world’s most uninhabitable places and had never looked this bad. He was no one’s idea of a catch, that was for sure.

He took the short cab ride to the hospital and made his way to the cancer ward, smiling at a few of the nurses he’d come to know since his diagnosis several weeks ago. Standing in the lift as it rose to the sixth floor, he realised he was disappointed that he hadn’t seen Daenerys yet.

He grinned as he saw her sitting in the treatment room. She sat in the chair he’d inhabited the week before. “I saved you a place,” she said as she patted the chair next to her. “I know how much you like it.”

He smiled and sat down next to her. “How was your week?” He asked as he made himself comfortable.

He saw the smile leave her face. “I spent most of it in bed,” she said quietly.

“It gets easier.”

He knew his words sounded hollow, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her feeling so low. He would have said anything to make her feel better.

One look at his tired and drawn face was enough to show that his words of reassurance were hardly true.

“Do you know the one thing that kept me going through it all?” He looked at her and waited for her to continue. “Coming back here to spend the day with you.”

He felt his mouth go dry. He’d felt exactly the same way about her. As he tossed restlessly from the stomach cramps clawing at his guts, visions of her had flooded his mind. It had been a torture of the sweetest kind to see her face in his dreams as the chemotherapy drugs did their worst on his weary body.

“How was your week?’ She asked him after a while.

“Well, last Wednesday I went skydiving, then on Friday I drove a Formula One car. Sunday I went salsa dancing.”

She screwed her face up in mock annoyance at his attempt at levity.

“I spent most of it throwing up,” he admitted quietly. 

He didn’t know why, but he had the sudden urge to take his woollen hat off and show her his hair. He hoped it would make her feel better or at the very least, take her mind off of her own treatment for a while.

“What do you think?” He asked, twisting the hat in his hands nervously.

He felt her hand run over his scalp. “I kinda like it,” she said as she sat back to appraise him. “It really makes your eyes stand out. You have the most amazing eyes, Jorah.”

His cheeks felt hot at her words. Did she realise what kind of effect she was having on him?

She was looking at him so intently. He found himself becoming hypnotised by her eyes, her beautiful lips and her cute nose…

He was getting lost in the way her hand ran through her hair. Did she realise how seductive her movements were?

He came to his senses quickly when he heard her quiet gasp. His eyes followed hers to her hand where several strands of hair now lay.

His heart broke for her as he watched her bottom lip tremble. He hadn’t intended on giving her his gift just yet, he was going to give it to her this afternoon just before they left, just in case she hated it.

He bent down and took it out of the plastic bag he’d brought with him. As sick as he’d felt for the past week, he’d made the effort of wrapping it himself.

“It’ll be ok, you know,” he said softly as he gave her forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Here, this is for you.”

“For me?” She asked, clearly surprised.

He nodded his head. “Open it.”

He almost laughed at the deliberate way she slid her finger under the seams of the wrapping, carefully removing the tape without ripping the paper itself.

“Jorah,” her voice was so soft, he barely heard her speak. Tears were welling in her eyes as she looked at him. He frowned, it wasn’t the type of reaction he’d been expecting from her. He’d wanted to cheer her up, not make her feel worse.

He risked a glance at her face as she held the silk headscarf in her hands, lifting it to her cheek. She rubbed her face in it several times before she looked at him again.

“This….” She said, gesturing to the scarf. “It’s beautiful. How did you know?”

He watched as she ran a finger over one of the dragons reverently. He’d searched online for hours for the perfect scarf for her and he’d finally settled on a dark green silk with yellow and red dragons embroidered on it.

He’d taken a gamble on the dragons after watching her play with her phone last week. Its case had a three-headed dragon on the back and there had been a similar design on her handbag. The small dragon tattoo on the inside of her wrist had made it obvious that she had at least some passing interest in the mythical creatures.

Her face sobered suddenly. “I feel bad that I haven’t got you anything.”

He dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t expect you to. Just having your company is gift enough for me.”

She gave him a wry grin as she saw Mary making her way over to them, tray in hand.

“Are you always such a charmer?”

His mind assaulted him with visions of Lynesse and how she had wheedled her way into his heart with promises she had never intended to fulfil. He had sworn off dating anyone since their acrimonious divorce five years ago.

She picked up on his melancholy. She placed her hand on his arm as he had done to her earlier. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I was only teasing.”

She sounded so sincere, nothing like the silken web of lies that Lynesse had spun around him. He’d been too blinded by his love for her to see the trap that she’d been building for him. She’d lured him in and then devoured him whole, tossing away the empty shell of the man she’d left behind.

He shook the thought from his mind.

“I’ve not really had any female friends since….well, for a while.” He frowned at his choice of words. Could he sound any more lame in front of this stunning woman?

“I wanted to give you the scarf to say thank you for last week,” he continued, scratching at his beard absent-mindedly. “Usually I’m counting down the hours until the treatment’s over and I can get back home…. Except this time, I didn’t want the day to end. I enjoyed spending the day with you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

There, he’d said it. He’d admitted that he’d enjoyed her company. She would either laugh at him or treat him with hostility. She was at least 10 years younger than him and she was way out of his league.

The silence between them stretched, even the sting of the needle entering his arm as Mary stood over him was nothing compared to the agony her rejection would bring.

Finally, she spoke. “Would you think less of me if I said I felt exactly the same way?”

Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it definitely had not been that.


	4. I Won't Let Go

“This is me,” Jorah said as he opened the front door of his two-bed apartment, gesturing for her to enter first.

“Wow….this is….wow.” She said as she turned her head from left to right to take in the large living area. The lounge was bigger than her whole flat put together.

He held a hand out to her. “Here, let me take your coat.”

She shrugged her heavy navy blue overcoat off and watched him hang it on a hook by the door.

He gestured to the sofa. “Please, sit down. I’ll get us something to drink.”

She nodded and sank down into the black leather sofa, wincing as it creaked slightly under her weight. It felt good to be sitting down, the exhaustion of the treatment today seemed to hit her twice as hard as it had last week.

She’d been planning to call a cab to take her back home as Mary disconnected the IV line and had bent down to her handbag to retrieve her phone when a sudden wave of dizziness came over her. It had only been Jorah’s strong arms that had stopped her from falling flat on her face.

“Take a deep breath,” he’d told her, supporting her weight. “It’ll pass in a minute.”

It had taken several minutes and the dizziness had still not left her but she’d done her best not to show it. All she’d wanted to do was crawl home to bed and stay there for the rest of her life.

“I need to call a cab,” she’d mumbled, her head still close to her chest as she took another deep breath. “I want to get home before it gets dark.”

She’d been reluctant to be alone outside in the dark since… No, she told herself she wouldn’t go back there. The past was just that - the past. It was much better left behind and never thought of again.

“I don’t think you’re in any fit state to be staying on your own,” Jorah had replied, helping her to sit back slowly.

She’d closed her eyes and felt her stomach roll. “I’m not staying here. Not on my own.”

He’d let out a humourless laugh. “Aye, I don’t blame you which is why I think you should come back to mine.”

Her eyes had shot open at that. She made the grievous mistake of whipping her head around to look at him in disbelief. “Do you pick a lot of girls up on the cancer ward?”

She’d meant her words to be teasing but she caught the look of hurt on his face before he quickly hid it from her.

“When the effects of the chemo really start kicking in…” he trailed off as he looked at anything but her. “It’s not a time when you want to be on your own. I have a spare room…sometimes the company helps you get through the first few days.”

He’d known from his own bitter experience that loneliness only served to make the experience a whole lot worse. He’d had no one sitting with him or wiping the sweat from his brow after he’d vomited for the fifth time in an hour.

At least he’d had a few weeks to get used to it. He didn’t want her to be on her own like he had.

She’d realised that he was only trying to help her and the thought of his company did make the idea of the next few days all the more bearable. “You don’t have to,” she’d said, offering him a way out if he’d changed his mind.

“I want to,” he’d reassured her with another one of his shy smiles.

“You’re safe with this one, hen. I assure you,” Mary said as she finished unclipping Jorah’s IV line. "There’s not many better men I know than Jorah Mormont.”

“Mary,” he grumbled, running a hand over his face to hide his embarrassment.

She’d given him a pointed look, tutted at him and walked away. It was an affectation of hers that he’d known all his life. 

Jorah handed Daenerys the steaming cup of tea and grinned as she sniffed at it suspiciously.

“It’s peppermint,” he said as he sat in the leather armchair across the room from her. “It can help settle the stomach.”

He made himself comfortable, watching her with an amused expression as she took a sip of the tea and pulled a face at its taste.

“Give it a few more sips, it’ll start to taste better.”

Nothing had quite tasted the same since the treatment had started. It was almost as if the chemotherapy drugs were destroying his tastebuds as well as the cancer cells that had taken up residence in his body. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, it was just that everything tasted…different, somehow.

He watched her look around the room, her eyes widening as she took in the large bookcase that stood in the corner of the room and the typewriter on the oak wooden desk.

“Please tell me you don’t write on that thing?” She said as she pointed at ancient piece of machinery.

He shook his head. “It’s just decor. I’m not even sure it actually works.”

“This place must have cost a fortune,” she mused as she took another sip of her tea, balancing the cup on one knee as she tucked the other underneath her.

He shrugged. “I was just lucky that a few of my books sold fairly well.”

“Fairly well? You have a way of understating the obvious, Jorah.”

It had been pure dumb luck that the book he’d been working on when Lynesse had left him had gone on to sell enough copies to cover his debts. They were debts that she’d run up in his name and once the pot of gold had run dry, she’d left him penniless and heartbroken.

The book had been a success and had covered his debts and more, yet it signalled the end of any kind of relationship that he ever hoped to have with his father. Once word had spread of the book’s contents, his father had called him up and raged furiously at him for over an hour. The last words his father had spoken to him had not been kind and he’d made it clear that he was no longer any son of his or a part of the Mormont clan.

It would have been pointless trying to explain the reasons why he’d done what he had. His father would not see it as any less than a betrayal of the Mormont family name and everything it stood for.

He’d bought his current apartment without much thought and had let an interior designer dress the place. He’d taken the first available property the estate agent found that met his needs. He’d needed to get away from London as fast as possible.

The apartment was large and comfortable, but it was also an incredibly lonely place to be. It often worked in his favour when he was actively working on a new book, but the nights were long and cold, the winter ones especially.

Finishing his tea, he took his empty cup back to the open-plan kitchen and placed it in the dishwasher before fishing a box of crackers out of one of the cupboards.

“Here, try a couple of these,” he suggested as he held the box out to her.

She shook her head, feeling her stomach clench painfully again. “I don’t think I could keep them down.”

He placed them on the coffee table and made his way to the main bedroom. After opening and closing several drawers, he found what he’d been looking for - an old Scotland rugby top. It would be large enough to fit her and hopefully comfortable enough to sleep in.

It wasn’t as if he ever had company, but he had a spare toothbrush she could use and he hoped it wouldn’t make her feel too awkward at using a shared bathroom.

He laid the shirt on the bed and turned quickly as he heard the sound of running feet on the wooden floors of the hallway.

“It’s just there on your left,” he said as he stuck his head out of the doorway. Moments later he heard the tell-tale sounds of someone retching.

He was stuck in two minds as to whether to give her privacy or to check whether she was ok. He didn’t like the silence that followed, so he poked his head carefully around the bathroom door, his heart aching for her as she sat on bent knees with her elbows resting on the toilet seat.

Wetting down a towel, he bent down beside her and gently wiped the sweat from her face.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He could see the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks to join the contents of her stomach in the toilet bowl. 

The dam broke suddenly as she burst into violent tears. At a loss for what else to do, he took her in his arms and ran soothing circles over her back, trying his best to provide any small comfort he could to her.

His legs were cramping as he sat crouched beside her, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing that mattered was holding on to the woman who was falling apart in his arms.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” he crooned as he lay his chin on the top of her head, his hands still rubbing circles on her back. “Let it all out. I’ve got you.”

He held her close until her tears ran dry and she pulled back from him to wipe at her face.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice sounded so small at that moment, as if the weight of the world was laying atop her and slowly crushing not only her body, but her very spirit.

“You don’t ever have to apologise to me, Daenerys.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she replied, pushing sweat-soaked hair from her forehead.

He sat down on the floor, resting his back against the cool ceramic of the bath tub.

“It looked like you needed it.”

He watched her pick at a thread on her top. “I’ve just been so scared. Everything has happened so quickly and I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own.” The words were coming so fast now that she couldn’t stop herself. “I don’t really know anyone here and I’m terrified that I’m gonna die and no one is going to be there.”

“You’re not on your own anymore, Daenerys. You have me.”

She looked genuinely buoyed by his words. “Really?”

“Really,” he repeated with a smile. “In fact, I could do with a friend right about now, too. You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone, would you?”

His heart warmed at the sound of her laughter as she grabbed the hand towel from the rack behind her and threw it playfully at him.

He stood up carefully, feeling the effects of the treatment making their presence known. He knew if he stayed on the bathroom floor much longer that he wouldn’t be able to muster the energy to get back up.

“You can use the yellow toothbrush. The spare room is just across the corridor on your right.” 

He made to shut the bathroom door when she called out to him. “Jorah?”

He stopped midway with his hand still on the door handle.

“Thank you.”

She stood before him with mascara running down her cheeks and hair matted to her face, and yet she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, They’d barely known each other two days but he knew he was falling head over heels in love with her.


	5. Being With You

Jorah rubbed the sleep from his eyes, cursing the fact that he’d only dropped off a few hours earlier. It had been one of the more difficult side effects to get his head around. Even though he felt bone-weary, some nights he would not be able to drop off no matter what he did. It only compounded the feeling of fatigue during the daytime and left him feeling depressed.

He glanced the clock on the nightstand, sighing when he realised that it was already past 7am. Sleeping in when you had a guest was probably not the best thing to do, he worried that she might take it personally.

He hadn’t heard any noises coming from the spare room and figured that he would be able to dash from his room to the bathroom and grab a quick shower before she got up.

Still half asleep, he opened his door and heard her small gasp.

“Jorah!” She said, putting a hand to her chest. “You made me jump.”

He realised then that he was only half-dressed. There would be no way that a pretty young girl like Daenerys would want to see a semi-naked man standing in the hallway.

He began to feel self-conscious when he caught her looking at his chest. He was only wearing a pair of grey sweat pants. Dashing back into his room he pulled on a long-sleeve t-shirt and his black woollen hat before making his way back again.

He scratched his beard, refusing to look at her. “Did you….er….did you sleep well?”

She nodded tiredly at him, trying to stifle a yawn. “You have a seriously comfy bed. It was the best night’s sleep I’ve had for as long as I can remember.”

He smiled, risking a quick glance at her. “Good.” He paused for a moment. “You can have first dibs on the bathroom while I get some coffee made.”

He busied himself in the kitchen as he heard the sound of the shower being turned on, kicking himself for not thinking of putting something on before leaving his room this morning. The last thing Daenerys would have wanted to see was a middle-aged man whose hair had almost completely fallen out standing partially dressed in front of her.

He shook his head, telling himself that she wasn’t looking at his bare chest with a sense of longing. Lynesse had always been quick to tell him that he was lucky to have such a beautiful woman on his arm ‘considering the way he looked’ and that ‘there wasn’t much of a market for a balding, ageing man like him’.

As much as he had tried not to let those words wound him, the deeper she’d sunk her claws into him, the more those words tore into his heart until he was an unrecognisable shell of his former self.

No, there was no possible way that Daenerys had liked what she’d seen when they’d bumped into each other in the hallway. She was simply way out of his league.

“That shower you’ve got is amazing,” Daenerys said as she entered the kitchen, shaking him out of his dark thoughts.

“Do you think you could eat something?” He asked, taking a loaf of bread out of the refrigerator. 

She hesitated, chewing at her bottom lip.

“Having something dry in your stomach might help settle it.”

She nodded her head and he popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.

“You’re good at this, you know.”

“Good at what?”

“Taking care of people,” she clarified. “You seem to know just what to say or do to make me feel better.”

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to brush off the compliment. It had been so long since he’d heard one that he’d all but forgotten how to respond to them.

“Who takes care of you though?”

He’d been halfway across the kitchen bringing her a cup of steaming coffee when her question stopped him dead.

He had an urge to confess the truth - that he’d learned to be self-sufficient pretty quickly. After his mother’s death, his father had become emotionally distant toward him, never showing him much in the way of affection or love. He’d been forced into his first marriage when Anais fell pregnant and then signed up to the Army to be able to provide for her and the child. Lynesse had never had a caring bone in her body. Everything had always been about her and her needs and wants.

“Jorah, who takes care of you?”

He wanted to bolt from the room and hide until she’d left, but the look on her face told him that he wouldn’t be able to dodge answering her question.

“I’ve learned to look after myself,” he said quietly as he grabbed the toast and brought it to the table.

“Not any more,” Daenerys said with conviction as she buttered a slice.

“Excuse me?”

“You and me,” Daenerys said round a mouthful of toast. “We’re gonna look after each other and help one another get through this. What do you say?”

What could he say to that? 

He’d been drawn to her from the moment he set eyes on her, he couldn’t have pulled away from her even if he tried. If all she was offering was friendship then he would gladly cling to that like a drowning man on a liferaft. He’d take any small part of her that she was willing to give.

He shook her proffered hand. “Sounds like a plan.”

———————————

The coffee and toast that Daenerys had eaten had not stayed down for more than an hour before the stomach cramps and vomiting had returned. He’d convinced her to stay a while longer, even though she’d argued that she was inconveniencing him. He hadn’t told her that her company was the only thing taking his mind off of his own nausea and the thumping headache that had settled behind his eyes since he’d woke this morning.

He’d made her a hot water bottle and brought the duvet from her room to cover as they watched a couple of generic action movies. He’d taken her for the rom-com kind of girl had been shocked when she told him that she preferred watching violence and gore to the saccharine schmaltziness of chick-flicks.

“Unless you’re that kind of guy?” She’d teased him.

He’d intended to sit in the armchair across the room but she’d insisted that he share the couch with her.

“There’s more than enough room for two,” she’d said, patting the cushion next to her. “You’ll just have to nudge me if I fall asleep on your shoulder and start dribbling.”

He sat down and tried to make himself comfortable without invading any of her space.

“Jorah?”

“Hmmm?”

“You can take the hat off if you want. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

He realised at that point that he would never be able to hide anything from her and nor did he want to. He took the hat off, folding it up carefully and balancing it on the armrest, feeling more at ease than he had in weeks.

He must have fallen asleep halfway through the second film as he woke several hours later to find himself wrapped in the duvet. He caught the folded piece of paper out of the corner of his eye balanced against a glass of water.

_Hey Jorah,_

_You looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you._

_I’ve taken a cab back to my place and I just wanted to thank you for being so amazing. I don’t know how I would have got through yesterday without you._

_I meant what I said at breakfast, I want you and I to help each other through this. We can be, I don’t know, chemo buddies or something._

_My number is at the bottom of this note, so if you feel up to it over the next few days, give me a call and we’ll head out for a coffee or something._

_Promise me that you won’t spend the whole night sleeping on the couch. Read this and then go to bed…I’ll know if you haven’t…we’re looking after each other, remember?_

_Yours, _

_Daenerys xxx _

He read the note several times just to make sure that he’d read it correctly. This amazing, bright, vibrant woman wanted to spend more time with him.

Just as friends, he told himself, trying to keep his over-indulgent heart on a leash. It was already straining to pull free and it would take all of his willpower to keep it under control.

It occurred to him that he had no idea how to respond to her note. If he called straight away, would she think he was being too pushy? Should he call her or send a text message instead?

He ran a shaky hand over his scalp, feeling like a gawky teenager asking a pretty girl to the prom. His ability to communicate had suddenly vanished into an ethereal mist, it always had around beautiful women. He’d get flustered and tongue-tied and end up looking like an idiot.

Play it cool, he told himself. He glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece and realised it was already early evening and that Daenerys would probably have been in bed already. He felt another tidal wave of fatigue hit him and toyed with the idea of spending the night on the couch, he would have but for the fact that he didn’t want to disappoint her. He’d promised her that they would look after each other.

He’d been accused of many things in his life, but Jorah had never lost his sense of loyalty when it came to people he cared about and he knew without a doubt that he was beginning to care for Daenerys Targaryen deeply.


	6. Just The Way You Are

It had been two days since Daenerys had returned to her flat and she’d been disappointed that Jorah hadn’t called or texted her in that time. 

Maybe she'd been too forward with him. Maybe all he wanted from her was someone to while away the hours at the hospital as the chemotherapy drugs tried their best to destroy their bodies. Maybe he was just looking for a distraction.

From the moment she met him, she felt herself being drawn to him. It wasn’t as if she was in the habit of picking up men in hospital wards. She’d entered the treatment room only expecting the worst.

She’d been attracted to him the moment he opened his mouth to ask to sit next to her. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and the most gorgeous Edinburgh accent. Yes, he was older than her, but he was also the most handsome man she’d met since Jon.

No, she wouldn’t go back there. 

Not again.

She hadn’t known what to expect during her first treatment and having Jorah sitting next to her somehow made the whole ordeal more bearable. She’d been genuinely disappointed when they’d parted at the end of the day and had convinced herself that she would probably never see him again.

She’d never been so happy to see someone as she had been when Jorah had walked back into the treatment room the following week. He’d worn a yellow shirt that cast a golden glow across his handsome face and the bashful smile he gave her as he sat down next to her sent her heart fluttering painfully.

The conversation flowed between them effortlessly and Daenerys had begun to feel hopeful that the cancer treatment would not be as bad as she first feared. She felt her hope crash painfully when a handful of hair fell out in front him. She knew any chance that Jorah was interested in her died when those stands of hair landed in the palm of her hand.

She wanted to cry, to run away, to hide from the truth. She didn’t want this kind, handsome man to look at her and be repulsed by what he saw.

With tears welling in her eyes, he’d placed a wrapped object in her lap. She’d opened it carefully, being mindful of not ripping the beautiful paper and couldn’t quite believe what she saw. 

How did he know?

How did this man seem to know what to say and do just when she needed it the most?

He’d given her a beautiful scarf with the most gorgeous dragons on them. She had never been so touched by a gift in her life.

Her father had always been the capricious sort and after the death of both he and her mother, it had been left to her two older brothers to care for her. Rhaegar had been kind, but he’d also had an eye for attractive women and had been murdered by the jealous husband of a woman he’d been sleeping with.

Viserys had always treated her as if she were a burden and only showed any affection toward her when he knew she could be valuable to him. He had always threatened her with violence if she displeased him and it had been a relief when she’d finally been able to strike out on her own, first by going to college and then to university.

Her experience of men up until that point had been warped and she’d found herself getting into damaging relationships with all the wrong sorts of men. Daario had only ever wanted her for her body and had dumped her as soon as someone prettier than her had come along. She had given those men her body, her affection and her time and they had left her without a second thought.

After graduating university, she’d begun a career is a graphic designer and had enjoyed several successful years, gaining a reputation for herself as a talented artist. She’d had a nice apartment, a good career and things had begun looking up for her.

And then she’d met Jon.

The organisation she worked for had teamed up with a company called ‘Beyond the Wall Productions’ and Jon Snow had been made her point of contact. The two of them had been tasked with creating advertising for a new campaign and with millions of pounds of investment at stake, both companies had been pressuring them to deliver results.

It had started as mutual attraction and flirtatious banter, but one winter’s night had seen them snowed in at his apartment. One thing had led to another as the two of them found themselves in bed together.

Perhaps it had been the thrill of working to a tight deadline, but they found it impossible to keep their hands off each other and fell into a steamy, passionate relationship.

Daenerys had told herself that Jon Snow was the one for her and that he could be trusted. She began opening her heart to him, telling him of her plans to start out on her own. She’d shown him concepts and ideas that she’d been working on, some of which she felt would be enough to make a name for herself if she chose to break out on her own.

They’d worked day and night to finish the project they were working on to hand it in on schedule. Daenerys had been looking forward to seeing Jon again now that their deadline had been met.

And then Jon Snow stopped calling. At first, he told her that he was busy and that he’d call her when he was free. The time between calls and texts grew longer as the days turned into weeks. She’d told herself that she was being foolish in thinking that he’d met someone else.

It would have been a kinder fate than the one she was eventually dealt.

Two months after finishing their project, Daenerys had seen an advert in the industry magazine promoting the design concepts she’d shown to Jon alongside an interview with a graphic designer called Sansa Stark. The magazine called the concepts ‘revolutionary’ and ‘groundbreaking’ and hailed Stark as the brightest and newest star in their industry.

Jon Snow had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She had opened her heart to him and he’d ripped it out and sold her secrets to a rival. She knew that she couldn’t stay in London any longer. She couldn’t bear to see Sansa Stark take the credit for her work, parading it off as her own.

She’d been fortunate when a short-term contract had been available in Edinburgh. She’d been desperate to get away from England and told herself that a change of scenery would do her good.

Her best friend Missandei had been sad to see her leave London, but she couldn’t argue that the change had done Daenerys a world of good. Daenerys knew in herself that she was much happier in Edinburgh than she'd ever been in London.

Short-term contracts and freelancing had been enough to keep her financially solvent and Daenerys had begun to hope that perhaps she was due some good fortune. 

That had all come crashing to a halt when she’d found the lump in her breast.

But then she had met Jorah in that busy treatment room and for the first time in years, she felt safe in the presence of a man. He’d been nothing but kind and supportive toward her, even opening up his home to her after she suffered an adverse reaction to the chemo.

She was taken aback when he asked her to come back to his apartment. Her senses had been immediately heightened that he would lure her back to his home to take advantage of her. After all, that was what all men wanted, right?

It had only been the intervention of Mary, the kindly nurse, that had made her change her mind. It was clear that she and Jorah had known each other for many years, judging by their familiarity and easy joking nature. Still, Daenerys had excused herself to pop to the bathroom and send a text message to Missandei.

_“Not feeling so good after today’s treatment. Jorah wants to take me back to his.”_

_“You go girl, picking up guys at the chemo ward!” Missandei had texted back._

_“I’m serious, Missy. He says he has a spare room I can use.”_

_“Are you sure you trust him?”_

_“I think so. Text me tomorrow at 9am, if I don’t reply, call the police”_

Daenerys hadn’t waited until 9am to text her friend, she shot off a text message as soon as she’d woken to let Missandei know that she was fine. In fact, it had been the best night’s sleep she could remember in a long time.

She knew she’d made a fool of herself in front of Jorah, firstly by throwing up and then by bursting into tears in his arms. She’d expected him to mock her just like Viserys had any time she’d fallen over and skinned her knees. Jorah had taken her in his arms and held her until the tears had run dry. No man had ever offered her comfort with the expectation of nothing in return.

Not until Jorah, anyway.

She’d let out a small giggle at the huge rugby shirt he’d left on the bed for her and was surprised when it turned out to be extremely comfortable. The shirt was slightly ragged around the edges and it was clear that it had been worn a number of times. She’d even caught herself sniffing the fabric, trying to inhale Jorah’s scent from it.

She hadn’t expected to bump into him in the hallway the next morning and seeing him standing in the doorway semi-naked had been a welcome surprise. She knew he was at least a decade older than her, but she’d been shocked at just how physically fit he was.

He didn’t have a six pack like Jon, but his chest was broad and his abdomen was flat with a light dusting of hair. His arms were muscled and it was clear that he was a man who kept himself in shape. She couldn’t help but run her eyes up and down his body admiringly. She saw a number of scars on his torso and a marbled pattern of scars that ran almost the whole length of his left arm and shoulder.

She kicked herself when he caught her looking at his body and he’d quickly returned to his room to cover himself.

Did he think she was repulsed by what she saw?

She wasn’t, she only wanted to know more about what had happened to him to leave such marks on his body.

He’d let her have use of the bathroom first and while showering, Daenerys had promised herself that she would do everything she could to find out more about Jorah. Not because she was being nosey, but because she realised that she cared about him. It was becoming painfully obvious to her that he’d had no one like that in his life for many years.

She’d seen how tired and pained he looked as they’d watched movies that afternoon and had been glad when he eventually fell asleep, hoping that his rest would be pain-free. She’d removed herself from the couch, covered him with the duvet and planted a soft kiss on his cheek before writing a short note and placing it on the coffee table in his line of sight.

That had been two days ago.

She’d been checking her phone more times than was reasonable. It occurred to her that she might have written her number incorrectly or that the note had fallen to the floor and landed under the couch before he’d had a chance to read it. All of these thoughts and more passed through her mind as she tried to convince herself that she’d made a mistake and that he wasn’t interested in her.

She’d been dozing on the couch when her phone suddenly chirped at her. She didn’t recognise the number but hope flared in her that it was Jorah. She picked it up on the second ring.

“Hi.”

Her heart leapt at the sound of his soft Edinburgh accent.

“Jorah, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call.”

She heard him let out a deep breath. “Sorry, it’s been a rough few days. I haven’t exactly been at my best.”

She’d seen firsthand how much the chemotherapy was affecting him.

“Are you ok?”

He let out a small laugh and Daenerys felt her heart flutter at the sound of it.

“I’m all the better for hearing your voice, Daenerys. I wondered if having a coffee was still on the cards….if you’re up for it?”

She felt bad hearing the uncertainty in his voice.

“You bet,” she replied quickly, trying to put him at ease. “Do you know where Collins is on March Street?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Sounds good.”

Daenerys leapt to her feet quickly, fighting off the lightheadedness before making her way to her bedroom to get dressed. It occurred to her that lightness was not only in her head, but also in her heart and that Jorah had been the one to put it there.


	7. You're Only Human

It hadn’t surprised Daenerys to find Jorah already sitting at a table in the coffee shop. She smiled at the sight of him with a tattered paperback book in his hands, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

“Hey there, stranger,” she said, standing opposite him. She frowned when she realised how pale and drawn he looked.

“Daenerys,” he said as he stood, kissing her on the cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He made to pull his wallet from his pocket but she stopped him with a hand.

“No, these are on me,” Daenerys insisted. “It’s the least I can do for letting me stay the other night.”

He looked like he was about to object until he saw her look of determination. She smiled as he sank back down into his chair, sighing tiredly.

“What can I get you?” She asked in her best attempt at a Scottish accent. It was woefully inept, but at least it had made him smile.

“A cappuccino would be great.”

Daenerys kept an eye on Jorah as she waited for their drinks to be made. She could tell by the slump of his shoulders that the last few days had not been pleasant for him. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but it looked like he’d lost weight since the last time she’d seen him.

She was beginning to know all too well how gruelling the chemotherapy treatment could be, but it seemed to be hitting Jorah harder than it did her. Maybe his treatment was more aggressive than hers or maybe it was due to the fact that he’d had more chemo than she had. Either way, it looked like it was taking its toll on him.

“Is it any good?” Daenerys asked, passing Jorah his coffee.

He looked at the book in his hands before placing it on the table and shrugging his shoulders. “I suppose it depends if you’re into mythical creatures, knights, and sword-fighting.”

“Sounds….interesting.”

Jorah shook his head. “Anyway, how have you been?”

She frowned. She’d only known him a couple of weeks and yet she could tell that he was trying to divert the conversation away from himself.

“The chemo’s left me feeling pretty beat up. How about you?”

She could see him squirming in his chair. She wasn’t going to let him back out of this conversation if she could help it. 

She watched as he ran a tired hand over his face.

“It’s been pretty shit, to be honest with you.”

He sounded so defeated, her heart thumped painfully in her chest.

She placed a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You should have called me.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have been great company.”

“I don’t care about that. You needed someone to be there for you.”

“Daenerys, you have your own life and your own treatment to deal with. You don’t need mine as well.”

“Since when do you get to make my decisions for me?” She shot back quickly and it was enough to make him sit up straighter in his seat. “What happened to being in this together?”

“Daenerys….” His voice was barely a whisper as he closed his eyes. The way his face fell, she was sure he was going to cry. If they hadn’t been in such a public setting, she would have dragged him to his feet, wrapped him in her arms and hugged him until all of his broken pieces had been put back together.

It broke her to watch him trying to get his emotions under control, she could do nothing but hold his hand as he clung to it tightly, forcing his volatile emotions back beneath the surface where he could control them once more.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

He ran his finger over a grain of sugar, pushing it aimlessly around the table in circular patterns. “For calling…..for not calling…..for this…”

“Well, that’s a lot to apologise for,” she deadpanned. “We could be here all week. Anything else you wanna confess?”

His head shot up at that. He opened his mouth to say something before a knowing smile crept across his features. She was using his own tactics against him.

“Let’s finish these and take a walk,” Daenerys suggested, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get Jorah to open up in public. Whatever was eating eating away at him was likely not something he wanted to share with anyone, let alone a cafe full of strangers.

They’d been walking in companionable silence for a time before Daenerys tried again. “Jorah, whatever’s eating at you…you know that you can tell me, right?”

He nodded his head. Taking a couple of deep breaths to steel himself. “I’m used to the stomach cramps, the pain and the throwing up…..but I’ve not been sleeping well recently….I’ve been reliving things that I’d rather not.”

She said nothing but looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder as they continued walking.

“I can’t eat….I can’t sleep….I can’t get comfortable without something aching…and it’s just more than I have the energy to deal with right now, you know?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Listen to me, eh? I sound like a right sorry sack of shit, don’t I?”

She stopped and turned to face him, placing a hand on his cheek. “It’s ok to need someone, Jorah. It doesn’t make you less of a man.”

She saw him screw his eyes shut tightly.

“You don’t understand, Daenerys….I….”

He stopped suddenly, the words dying in his mouth as blood began streaming from his nose.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled as he held his hand to his face.

Daenerys scrambled through her bag and handed him a tissue.

“Are you ok?”

He nodded as best he could with a wad of tissues under his nose.

“Another wonderful side effect of the chemo,” he muttered, his voice muffled by his hand.

“My flat is up the next street. Come on, I’ll take you there to get cleaned up.”

She didn’t give him a chance to object as she took him by the arm and led him there.

He followed her meekly to her flat, sitting down in the proffered chair in her kitchen as she grabbed another handful of tissues and moved his hand gently away from his face, wincing as the blood still continued to flow.

She handed the clean tissues to him and disposed of the soiled ones, giving him a sympathetic look as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She busied herself making them a coffee while he sat with his elbows on her kitchen table, his head hung low.

After what seemed like an age, the nosebleed finally stopped.

“The bathroom is just down the hall to your left,” Daenerys said, holding her hand out for the soiled tissues. 

Jorah nodded his head and returned to the kitchen several minutes later, his face and beard clear of the blood that had covered it moments before.

He smiled warmly at her as she handed him a cup of coffee.

“Thank - “

He hadn’t finished his sentence before the cup fell from his hand at the sound of a car misfiring outside on the street below.

The ceramic cup smashed upon impact as coffee spilt across the linoleum floor.

There was only one word for the look on his face: shellshocked.

He came to his senses quickly, bending to pick up the broken pieces of china, apologising over and over to Daenerys for his clumsiness. His hands shook as he collected the shards, one of them slipping from his grip and slicing his palm open. He winced as he dropped the offending item on the floor again.

Daenerys had been too shocked to do anything at first except watch him. His reaction to the car outside had taken her by surprise.

Bending down, she took the pieces of china from Jorah’s shaking hands and then guided him back to the kitchen table.

“Wait there,” she ordered him , grabbing her first aid kit from the cupboard.

He did as she asked, sitting and staring at the wall, his mind still trying to rid itself of the horrific images it had just conjured.

He felt her take his hand and lift it closer to inspect the damage. He winced as she cleaned it carefully, placing a dressing over the wound and securing it will a small piece of bandage.

His mouth felt drier than even the hottest day in the Afghan sun. It took him several attempts to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry,”

Daenerys looked up from her work. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Are you ok?”

He nodded his head although his hands still shook.

“You don’t look ok,” Daenerys prodded. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He flinched at her words, his mind suddenly going back to that horrible day in the desert.

“Jorah, talk to me….please.”

More than anything in the world, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to open up and let her in, but he knew that she would recoil away from him in horror just like Lynesse had. No one should ever have to be burdened with the terrors that came for him at night. Daenerys was too pure and innocent to ever be tainted by his demons.

“You can trust me, Jorah. I promise.”

And how he wanted to trust her. He wanted nothing more than to open up and let her in. He had been on his own for so long, fending for himself. He was tired of fighting, tired of being alone with no one to talk to, with no one to understand what he was going through.

Perhaps it was karma for betraying his family the way he had. This torture was what he deserved. He was finally reaping what he’d sowed all those years ago.

“Jorah, nothing you could say would ever make me think less of you. I want to help you….please, let me help you.”

He cursed himself for looking at her in that moment. One look at her and he knew he was defeated. He’d only known her a matter of days and yet he would have done anything for her, even if it caused him harm.

“I joined the Army when I was 18,” Jorah began hesitantly, forcing himself not to go into the reasons why he’d enlisted at such a young age. Daenerys didn’t need to hear the sordid details of how he’d come to marry his first wife.

“Fifteen years ago, I was deployed in Helmand Province with my unit. We were guarding a medic transport unit with injured soldiers back to the airbase when our truck drove over an IED.”

Jorah took a sip of his coffee, trying to control his nerves. He kept his gaze on the table, he couldn’t bear to see the look on Daenerys’ face as he spoke of the day his life had changed forever.

“The front of the truck took the worst of it…the driver and the guy sitting next to him were killed instantly. The three of us in the back were trapped…pinned down…there was blood everywhere. 

Jorah paused again, running shaky hand across his face.

“Then the truck caught fire….I was trapped with no way out….I could feel the flames crawling up my body…my clothes were on fire and I couldn’t move…. Next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground twenty feet away from the truck as it explodes. They told me later that I was the only one to survive. They couldn’t get to the other two in time. I remember them dousing me in water, I was screaming…I was in agony. I guess I must have passed out at some point….the next thing I know, I’m waking up back at the base covered in bandages.”

Daenerys put the pieces together. “Is that how you got the scars on your arm?”

He winced, knowing that she’d seen them.

He nodded his head. “I had third-degree burns over most of my arm. Having the skin grafts was the worst part. I’ve never known pain like it.” He hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry you had to see those scars, I know they’re not nice to look at.”

He’d expected her to turn away in horror, to make some sort of thinly-veiled excuse to be rid of him. What he hadn’t been expecting was for her to take him by the hands and kissing him on the cheek.

She was at a loss for words. This brave, gallant man standing before her had looked at her as if she was going to reject him. How could he think so little of himself?

This man had fought for his country and bore the marks to prove it, both psychologically and physically. He was perhaps the strongest man she had ever met and any lingering doubts she had about him had been washed away in an instant at his confession. She realised that not only did she care for him deeply, but that her feelings were growing much stronger than that of just friends. 

Her only hope was that he felt the same way about her too.


	8. You're Going To Be OK

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Jorah Mormont with a smile on his face?”

Even Mary’s teasing couldn’t keep the smile from Jorah’s face as he walked into the treatment room with Daenerys.

He felt lighter than he had in years and most of that had been down to the beautiful, bewitching Daenerys Targaryen who stood next to him, her arm looped through his. The two of them took their usual places and waited for Mary to begin another round of chemotherapy treatment.

“You’re looking well, Jorah,” the nurse said, watching him wince at the needle entering his arm. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the nice young lady sitting next to you, would it?”

He let out what Daenerys could only describe as a growl as he shot Mary a filthy look.

“That look might work on some people, but not I, Jorah. You forget I know you too well.”

“How could I forget?” He groused as she walked away.

Even Mary’s subtle teasing couldn’t wipe away the feeling of lightness that he’d had since he’d opened up to Daenerys. After holding in his emotions for years, he’d finally been able to confess to someone that he was struggling.

He’d been used to the dreams for years, but the effects of the chemo treatment along with the chronic insomnia he’d been suffering had made it too much to bear.

Perhaps fate had drawn him to meeting Daenerys for a coffee last week, even though he knew deep down that he was neither physically or psychologically ready to venture out into the world that day.

For the two days before he called her, he’d been plagued by images of that day in Afghanistan, trapped in a burning vehicle as the others screamed out in terror and pain. Some nights, their burned and ravaged faces would haunt him, taunting him for surviving while they perished. On the few occasions that he’d fallen asleep, he would suddenly wake in a cold sweat with his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

He’d been so tired, so desperate to give in to it all. 

There was no point in fighting if you had nothing to left to fight for.

Against his better judgement, he’d picked up the phone and called Daenerys, not fully conscious of the reasons why he was doing so. Something inside him had compelled him to ring her. She’d answered on the second ring and sounded happy to hear his voice. It had been a long time since he’d heard something like that.

He’d ended up confessing far more than he should have and was certain that Daenerys would find an excuse not to speak to him again. He’d convinced himself that she would find his issues too much to deal with. She would find a way to distance herself just like everyone else had.

He hadn’t expected her to arrive on his doorstep the next morning with a bag of popcorn in her hands and a smile on her face that would have warmed even the coldest of days. The next day, he’d returned the favour by standing on her doorstep with an elaborate bunch of flowers and a shy smile on his face.

As the days passed, they’d fallen into an easy routine of knowing just what the other needed. Whether it was a hug or a cup of tea, they’d begun to read each other’s body language intuitively, feeling comfortable in each other’s living space. Even when they both felt like crap, having someone to share it with made it all more bearable.

Something in their relationship had changed yesterday when Daenerys had walked into his living room with a large clump of hair in her hand. Her bottom lip had trembled violently as her eyes welled with tears. He took her in his arms and tried his best to comfort her.

“It’ll be ok. I promise you.”

He held her as she cried and could feel her arms wrap around him tightly. She was much smaller than him and yet he could feel the strength in her grip as she let her emotions run free.

She’d pulled away as the tears dried. “Jorah, can I ask you something”

He kissed her forehead. “Anything.”

“I want you to get rid of it.”

He tensed suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to get rid of my hair. All of it.”

He was stunned.

“Daenerys - “

He caught the lone tear that ran down her cheek.

“Please don’t make me ask you again,” she whispered and he could see how much this was costing her.

He kissed her forehead again and made his way to the bathroom only to find her following him.

“I want to watch you do it,” she said as she stood in front of the mirror.

He turned the electric razor on, checking that it worked.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, taking several deep breaths. “Do it,” she ordered as she stared defiantly into the mirror, watching her long blonde hair falling to the floor as Jorah ran the razor over her scalp.

She’d stared at herself in the mirror for several minutes, turning her head from one side to the other as she took in the sight. She looked different, strange.

Watching Jorah remove her hair had been one of the most intimate experiences she’d ever shared with another person and yet it seemed right that he’d been the one to do it. There was no one else in the world who knew what they were going through. No one else would understand the fear, the anxiety, and the crippling loneliness that plagued them. It was just the two of them against the world.

She turned to look at him, her hand stroking his bearded cheek softly.

“Thank you.”

He was looking at her intently. His eyes staring into her own. She could hear his deep intake of breath.

“Daenerys….would it be ok if I kissed you?”

She’d answered his question by pressing herself against him and kissing him deeply, melting into his embrace as his arms wrapped around her, the kiss only coming to an end when they broke for air.

He smiled at her as their foreheads touched, “I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I met you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Me too.”

He straightened up suddenly, running a hand across his beard. “Maybe this is too much too soon. Maybe we should stop.”

She grabbed his hand as he tried to move away and place distance between them.

“Is that what you want?”

He replied before he could stop himself. “Of course not. It’s just that….there’s a lot going on…maybe you’re confused about how you feel….”

“Are you?” He looked at her, puzzled. “Are you confused about how you feel?”

“Of course not,” he replied quickly. “I like you, Daenerys. I mean, I _really_ like you. A lot.” He ran a hand over his head. “I’m too old, I don’t know how much time I might have left. Maybe this isn’t the time…”

“Maybe this is exactly the time, Jorah,” she implored him. “Neither of us know how much time we have. Let’s just enjoy it and make the most of it, ok?”

He’d known right then that he was madly, hopelessly in love with her.

———————————

They had spent most of the day chatting and Daenerys had smiled at Mary’s attempts to get under Jorah’s skin, teasing him about the ‘gorgeous lass’ sitting next to him. He had taken it all with good humour and it had helped the day pass quicker than the last few treatments had.

She noticed Jorah getting quieter as the afternoon went on, saying nothing as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. She knew how much the treatments took out of him and how little sleep he was getting some nights.

She would never admit as much, but she enjoyed watching him doze. He seemed to look younger and more relaxed when he finally managed a deep and restful sleep.

“You like him, don’t you?” Mary said quietly as she handed Daenerys a cup of coffee.

She frowned. “Is it obvious?”

Mary let out a small chuckle. “He’s got it bad for you too, hen.”

“Really?” Daenerys wasn’t quite sure if she believed her.

“I know that man better than he knows himself,” Mary whispered as she glanced at Jorah. “We’ve known each other since we were wee bairns.”

Daenerys smiled at the thought of Jorah as a small boy.

“We were each other’s first kiss. We were gonna get married, have six children and live on a farm.”

Daenerys felt her heart skip a beat at the thought of Jorah being with someone else. It must have showed on her face as Mary patted her arm.

“We were ten,” she laughed. “That summer of our engagement… ahhh….we thought it would last forever.” She gave Daenerys’ arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not like we broke each other’s hearts….although some people already have.”

The look in Mary’s was full of melancholy.

“If I ever get a chance to lay my hands on his ex-wife….I’d tear her limb from limb.”

“What happened?”

Mary cleared her throat, trying to keep her rising anger at bay. “That’s not a story for me to tell, hen. Maybe Jorah will when he feels it’s time. Promise me one thing, lass?”

Daenerys looked at her expectantly. “Of course.”

“He’s one of the last good men. Please don’t break his heart.”


	9. You Belong With Me

As the days passed, Daenerys found herself ever more comfortable in Jorah’s spacious apartment, so much so that the clothes she brought each time had somehow found their way into staying at his place.

It had been two weeks since their first kiss and while they’d repeated that several times, the chemotherapy treatment and its side effects had meant neither of them had the energy or inclination to do much more than that.

It wasn’t that they were not physically attracted to each other, it was clear to see that they both were, yet Daenerys would have been lying to herself if she said that she wasn’t nervous about Jorah seeing her naked for the first time.

She’d never felt less of a woman than after the mastectomy. She could barely bring herself to look at her own body, let alone think about anyone else seeing it.

She worried that Jorah would grow impatient with her and get bored. She kicked herself for measuring him against every other man she had dated. Jorah was head and shoulders above any man she’d ever met. The others weren’t even in his league.

They sat watching a film, Jorah with his arm around her, his finger tracing light circles across her arm and she with her head on his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, his chest rising and falling as he breathed.

“Jorah?”

“Mmm hmm?” He replied distractedly.

“I want to share your bed.”

She tried to stifle her laugh at his shocked reaction. She sat up straight and looked at him, finding his blushing beyond cute.

“Daenerys….uh….”

“Relax, Jorah. I’m not suggesting we rip each other’s clothes off and go at it like animals.”

He cleared his throat, taking both of her hands gently in his. “Daenerys, there’s nothing I want more than to…take things further with you.” He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. “You deserve to be loved properly and…I don’t even know if…things still work properly down there anymore.”

She could see how much it had cost him to admit that to her. His look of shame was clear to see.

“I don’t think I’m ready for it yet either,” she tried to reassure him. “There’s still so much to get my head around….and I don’t feel like a real woman anymore. Not now….”

Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her tenderly. “Having a mastectomy doesn’t make you any less of a woman, Daenerys. Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

He paused to let his words sink in.

“I see the most stunning, beautiful, courageous woman who doesn’t know just how special she is. Even when everything’s going to shit around me….all I can see is you. You light up my life, Daenerys.”

How did he know just what to say to her?

She kissed him soundly. “You know, there are times when I look at you and I can’t quite believe you’re real, Jorah.”

He held one of her hands to his mouth, kissing it tenderly. 

“I am real, _this_ is real. I promise you.”

She melted into his embrace once more as they relaxed back against the cushions on the couch.

“I meant what I said, Jorah. I don’t want to sleep in your spare bedroom anymore. I want you to hold me while I fall asleep in your arms.” Daenerys let out a yawn as she stood, holding her hand out to him. "Let's have an early night," she suggested.

He took it and followed her to the bedroom, knowing that he would follow her anywhere she asked.

He watched her enter the bedroom several minutes later wearing nothing but the old rugby shirt he’d laid out for her the first time she’d stayed with him. He had to admit that it looked a hell of a lot better on her than it did on him.

Pulling the covers back, she got in and made herself comfortable, looking at him expectantly. Jorah suddenly felt self-conscious.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” She teased, patting the empty space next to her. “You might want to get undressed first.”

He willed his hands to stop shaking. He was making a fool of himself in front of the woman he’d fallen madly in love with. What if she rejected him like Lynesse had. He kicked himself for even thinking such a thing. Daenerys was a hundred times the woman his ex-wife had been.

“Are you ashamed of you scars?”

He felt his heart thump painfully. How could she undo him so easily?

He slowly took his top off but kept his gaze toward the ground.

“Jorah?”

“Jorah, look at me.”

He raised his eyes to her slowly.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. When I see your scars…it reminds me that you’re a hero.”

He cut her off quickly. “I’m no one’s hero, believe me.”

Climbing out of the bed, she made her way across the room to him. “Yes, you are,” she said, laying her head on his bare chest, one hand moving up and down his damaged left arm. “You’re my hero and I love you.”

The words had left her mouth before she could stop them, yet she knew that she would never take them back, even if she'd been able to. Without giving him time to respond, she took him by the hand, guiding Jorah to the bed, amazed at how perfectly their bodies fit together under the comforts of the duvet.

There was something so right about lying in his arms, it was if they were made for each other. The way her body fit under his arm and the way her head was cushioned by his chest. She had slept in the arms of other men, but nothing felt as safe and secure as being held in Jorah’s arms.

She felt him kiss the top of her head. “Did you mean it?” He asked quietly.

She could feel her eyes growing heavier, the steady beat of Jorah’s heart was lulling her gently to sleep. “Hmmm?”

“When you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”

She was awake again in an instant. Surely he would know by now that her feelings for him weren’t some sort of passing phase. Hadn’t she made that clear enough to him?

The thought suddenly crossed her mind that maybe he didn’t feel the same way about her after all. Maybe she had misread the situation badly. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d let her heart get ahead of her head.

“I wouldn’t have said it unless I meant it. It’s ok though, you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way.”

She felt the laughter rumble in his chest. She raised her head to look at him, confused as to why he was laughing at her. His expression sobered at her reaction.

“Daenerys Targaryen, I loved you the moment I walked into that hospital room. I’ve loved you every day since.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

She felt him take a deep breath and then let it out through his nose.

“I honestly thought that you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me, a man past his prime and with two failed marriages behind him. You’re way out of my league, Daenerys.”

She laid her head against his chest again, running a finger up and down his abdomen. “If I ever meet your ex-wife, I’m gonna tell her what a bitch she is for making you feel like this about yourself.”

She felt him tense. “How did you……. Mary, I take it?” She could hear the growl in his voice as he said her name. “She’s got a big mouth.”

“She cares about you, Jorah. Don’t be mad at her.” She ran a finger over his chest, feeling the lure of sleep calling to her once more. “She even gave me a friendly warning not to hurt you.”

She could tell by the way his breathing evened out and slowed that it wouldn’t be long until they were both asleep.

“Hmmm….did she now?”

Her last conscious thought before sleep claimed her was that she would never do anything to cause this sweet, gentle, loving man pain. From what she’d learned so far, there had been far too much of it in his life already. So used to being tossed aside and hurt, it had become second nature for Jorah to doubt himself and Daenerys promised herself that she would change that, day by day and week by week if need be until he finally realised that he was worthy of being loved.


	10. By Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: Everything You Always Wanted to Know About a Scotsman (But Were Afraid to Ask)

“I feel like we should have got balloons or something,” Daenerys said, watching Mary insert the needle into Jorah’s arm.

The time had finally arrived for the last round of his treatment, it would then be a waiting game to find out if the last eight weeks had made any difference.

It had been the most gruelling eight weeks of his life, yet Jorah couldn’t have felt happier knowing that he had Daenerys to share the journey with. He would have given anything for her not to go through her own course of chemotherapy, but she had single-handedly got him through the worst of the treatment’s effects. He knew that there was no way he would have ever made it this far without her.

He felt Mary pat his arm as she attached the IV tubing and hung a bag of fluid on the pole behind the chair. “It’ll break my heart not to see you here every week, hen.”

Jorah let out a small laugh. “I’ll be here with Daenerys until she finishes her treatment too.”

“Jorah, you don’t have to - “

He held a hand up to stop her. “I want to. We’re doing this together, remember?”

Daenerys rolled her eyes and playfully hit Jorah on the arm.

“Are you getting nervous for the test results?” Mary asked, preparing equipment to repeat the same process on Daenerys.

The tests in question being those that Jorah would have to see if the cancer was either in remission or had disappeared entirely.

He’d tried not to think about it up until now. His mind had solely been focused on getting through each gruelling round of chemotherapy. To meet a woman as amazing as Daenerys in the middle of it had been a welcome surprise. More than anything, he wanted the tests to come back clear so that he could finally make good on his promise to take Daenerys out to dinner.

Leaning back in his chair as the effects of the drugs worked their way through his system, Jorah closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath as a small cough escaped his lips.

“Do you have any preferences on where we go for dinner?” Jorah asked.

“Our cancer-free celebration?”

He smiled at her optimism. Recently, Daenerys was determined that the prognosis for both of them would be positive. There was simply no other alternative as far as she was concerned.

He nodded and opened one eye to look at her. Her smile always warmed his heart.

“Well…..as long as it’s not haggis,” she said after a pause.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

He put on a thick Scottish accent. “Aye, we’ll be havin’ neeps and tatties and haggis too. We’ll have it served with a pint of Irn Bru and a Tunnocks teacake for desert,” he added as an afterthought.

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

He closed his eyes again, suddenly feeling beyond weary. “I’ve never actually had haggis,” he admitted quietly.

He heard her over-exaggerated gasp. “What kind of Scotsman are you?” She said in mock surprise. “I mean, do you even own a kilt?”

“Now that would be telling,” he teased as another cough tickled his lungs.

“Is it true what they say?”

She was in a playful mood, Jorah found it lifting his own spirits too.

“About?”

“About Scotsmen and their kilts. That they….you know…”

Well, if she could play, so could he.

“That they what?”

“Go commando.”

He chuckled. “A Scotsman never tells.”

Perhaps she realised that she wouldn’t get an answer out of him easily, but he’d been surprised at her next line of questioning.

“What do you guys keep in that pouch thing you wear?”

“All men?” He questioned with a smirk. “I wasn’t aware that there was some sort of purse we were all supposed to have.”

“I’m being serious, Jorah. I’m guessing kilts don’t have pockets.”

“Oh, you mean a sporran?”

“Yeah, the leather thing that you wear at the front.”

Perhaps she was being deliberately obtuse about the subject, but the playful repartee was helping keep the thumping headache that he’d been feeling since he woke this morning at bay. A dull ache had also begun, setting into his bones.

“Well, personally speaking, I like to keep my lipstick and eyeliner in there. You never know when you might need to reapply it.”

He felt her hit him playfully on the arm again.

“You just wait until you have questions about….I don’t know….English culture or something. I’m going to enjoy paying you back in kind.”

He honestly couldn’t recall any of the remainder of their conversation, Jorah realised that he must have fallen asleep at some point. He woke to find Mary looking at him with concern.

“How you feeling, hen?”

He opened his mouth to answer her before coughing violently.

“Uhhh,”

It had been all he’d managed to say before Mary had placed her palm on his forehead and tutted at him.

“Have you been feeling unwell today, Jorah?”

He risked a quick glance at the nurse between coughs, knowing it would be futile lying to her.

“I just thought it was the effects of the chemo.”

“Is he ok?” Daenerys asked, concern evident in her voice.

He felt something being pushed into his ear and winced at the discomfort.

He heard a bleeping noise and then a sigh from Mary.

“Your temperature’s raised. I take it you didn’t get your flu shot like I told you to?” Mary admonished him.

“I was going to - “

“Well, you’ve just earned yourself an overnight stay here. Congratulations.”

“Mary - “

“Jorah, you know as well as I do that we can’t let you leave. The best place for you to be is here.”

It was the last thing he wanted. He’d woken up in a hospital room on his own too many times. There was nowhere more achingly lonely than being stuck in hospital with no one to care about you.

“Will he be ok?” Daenerys asked, chewing on her bottom lip nervously.

“Nothing that 48 hours of antibiotics won’t fix, I’m sure,” Mary said reassuringly. “The chemo treatments impair the body’s immune system. We just need to give Jorah’s a helping hand.”

“I don’t want to stay,” he insisted before breaking into another hacking cough.

He felt Daenerys’ hand on his arm. He wasn’t sure if she was cold or he was too hot.

“I’ll stay with you, I promise.”

She looked at Mary hopefully.

“I’ll see what strings I can pull,” Mary said, rolling her eyes and making her way to the nurses station.

—————---------

“This really isn’t necessary,” Jorah grumbled as he made himself comfortable on the hospital bed.

Mary shot him a look. “Remind me when exactly it was that you got your medical degree, Jorah.”

He folded his arms and gave her a dirty look.

“Is staying here really all that bad?”

He let out a deep sigh and ran a tired hand across his face.

“I’m just not a big fan of hospitals. No offence,” he added as an afterthought.

Mary softened to his plight, knowing his previous experiences of hospitals had not been pleasant, returning injured from Afghanistan in particular.

“Just lay back and relax,” she said softly. “Let me have my wicked way with you and you’ll be out of here before you know it.”

———————————

Daenerys held Jorah’s hand as he tried to find a comfortable position in the bed. It didn’t seem to matter what he did, nothing would take away the discomfort pervading his whole body. As his temperature climbed, the pain began to get worse.

Not able to watch his distress any longer, she found a nurse and asked if anything could be done. The nurse returned several minutes later with a doctor in tow.

“We can give you something for the pain,” the doctor offered, looking at Jorah’s chart at the end of the bed.

Daenerys could only watch as Jorah screwed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he ground out with great effort.

The doctor gave him a pointed look. “Your body can’t fight the infection if you can’t rest. We can give you something to take the edge off and help you sleep.”

“No,” Jorah growled.

“Mr Mormont - “

“I said no!”

The vehemence in his voice took Daenerys by surprise. She had never heard him raise his voice before.

Daenerys wasn’t quite sure when Mary had arrived, but she’d been grateful when the nurse placed a hand on Jorah’s arm and spoke to him.

“Jorah, let them give you something for the pain.”

Daenerys would never forget the fear she saw in Jorah’s eyes as he looked at his old friend.

“I can’t….the - “

“We won’t let that happen. I promise.”

Mary held his gaze until he finally relented and nodded his head, allowing the doctor to inject something in his IV line.

Daenerys wasn’t sure what had just happened between the two of them but was thankful that Mary had managed to make him see sense.

Perhaps it was due to the effects of the chemo as well as the virus currently invading his body, but it was only minutes before the opiates took effect and Jorah’s eyes drifted closed.

“I don’t understand why he wouldn’t take it,” Daenerys said, blowing out a long breath, relieved that Jorah finally seemed at ease as the medication took effect.

She looked to Mary who steadfastly avoided her gaze.

“What are you not telling me?”

“It’s not my place,” Mary began as her eyes surreptitiously went to Jorah’s scarred left arm.

“Is it about Afghanistan?”

The question took Mary by surprise. “He told you about it?”

Daenerys frowned. “Some of it. I get the feeling not all of it though.”

Glancing at Jorah’s sleeping form, Mary took a seat, worrying at the hem of her nurses uniform for a number of moments before speaking.

“This hospital has one of the best burns units in Scotland, so Jorah was flown back here after….what happened. He was in so much pain, Daenerys. They literally had to peel away the burned flesh and then graft more from his legs.”

Mary swallowed deeply, clearing her throat. “Jorah’s father was informed that he was back in the country and came to visit him not long after he arrived here. I heard Jeor, Jorah’s father, tell him that pain was just a case of ‘mind over matter’ and that he didn’t need all of the drugs we were giving him.”

Daenerys held Jorah’s hand tighter as Mary continued.

“Jorah wasn’t in any fit state to make any decisions…we were literally sedating him to make him conformable enough to be able to rest. I remember coming up to visit him one day after my shift had finished…I’ll never forget it for as long as I live.”

She saw the tears welling in Mary’s eyes. “We gave him a morphine pump that he could squeeze whenever the pain was too much. The unit was meant to stay in his hand so he could press it when he needed to. Jeor saw fit to move it far enough away so that Jorah couldn’t reach it.”

Mary took a number of deep breaths. “I found Jorah writhing in agony, crying and begging for someone to help him. He was straining so hard I thought he’d have a stroke.”

Daenerys found herself lost for words.

“Why?” She said finally. “Why would his father do that?”

Mary wiped furiously at the tears on her face. “Because Jeor wanted his son to be strong, just like him. He said that Jorah growing up without a mother meant that he had to be a ‘real man’ and never show weakness or pain. No matter how hard he tried, nothing Jorah ever did was good enough for that man.”

“Does Jorah’s father even know he’s here….that he has cancer?” Daenerys asked.

Mary shook her head. “I doubt it,” she replied. “I dare say Jorah wants to keep it that way.”


	11. What I've Been Looking For

“Home, sweet home,” Daenerys said as she and Jorah arrived back at his apartment two days later.

Truth be told, Jorah didn’t really remember much of the first night he spent in the hospital. In between the fever and the sedatives they gave him, he wasn’t really cognisant of anything that had been happening around him.

He remembered waking up yesterday morning to find Daenerys still by his side, her head resting on his bed as she slept soundly with her hand in his. Even though he felt guilty for her staying when she probably felt awful from the chemo, he was glad that she was there.

The last time he’d been in hospital, he’d woken up alone.

Jorah found himself being guided toward the couch by Daenerys’ insistent hands.

“Okay, okay,” he said, trying and failing to resist her attempts at pushing him down onto the soft cushions. “I’m not an invalid.”

“No, you’re just a stubborn pain in the arse,” Daenerys reprimanded him with a wry smile. “It’s a good job that you’re _my_ stubborn pain in the arse.” She softened her words with a tender kiss to his lips.

He watched her as she busied herself making coffee in the kitchen.

“You don’t have to wait on me,” he sighed. He would have stood if he’d had the energy, but the virus, along with the cumulative effects of the chemotherapy had drained what little energy he did have.

The last few days had definitely not gone as planned as far as Jorah was concerned. What should have been a reason to be hopeful had ended up being a disaster. The idea of finishing his chemotherapy should have been a cause for optimism and yet the virus that struck him down had brought back many thoughts and feelings that he would rather have left buried.

Although much of the first twenty-four hours had been a blur, visions of his first wife Anais had permeated his fevered dreams. He only hoped that he hadn’t said her name out loud in front of Daenerys. It was a conversation that he did not relish having with her.

He smiled as Daenerys handed him a cup of coffee and sat next to him on the couch.

“What a couple of days, huh?” Daenerys said, blowing on her coffee to cool it before taking a sip.

“Aye.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while.

“Jorah, who is Anais?”

He felt himself tense at her question, realising that he must have muttered her name in his sleep.

He cleared his throat to give him time to formulate a response.

“She was….uh….she was my first wife.”

“You said her name when you were sick… you sounded upset.”

He really didn’t want to have to explain why to Daenerys. She would probably hate him if he admitted the truth. Maybe he would let her get away with a few half-truths if he kept the facts to a bare minimum.

“She died in childbirth,” he said quietly, taking a sip of the still too hot coffee in order to distract himself.

He felt her hand squeeze his. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

“How long were you married for?”

It was clear that she wasn’t going to let this line of questioning go any time soon.

“Six years,” he replied. “We married young.”

“How young?”

“Eighteen,” he answered quietly. “We weren’t given much choice in the matter really.”

“How come?”

Jorah gave himself time to formulate his response by finishing his coffee and placing it on the table.

“Anais and I were teenagers, doing what teenagers do…. I don’t think we really ever loved each other and we just wanted to get….it… out of the way. One night, we'd had too much white cider and….uh….one thing led to another. We were just kids, we didn’t even think about protection. We were so naive.

Our parents went ballistic when they found out. My father gave me a hiding and told me that I had to marry Anais. Both of our families were strict Catholics…so abortion was out of the question. My father told me that the only honourable thing I could do was marry her, if I had any decency in me.”

He couldn’t bear to look at Daenerys, knowing that she’d be disappointed at the callow youth he’d been.

“I knew I would have to provide for Anais and the baby and I wasn’t particularly academically inclined. Joining the Army seemed like a good idea and it went some way to appeasing my father. He was a military man like his father before him and he was happy for me to carry on the family tradition.

We got married pretty quickly, but Anais lost the baby five months in to the pregnancy. I could have asked for a divorce there and then, but she was devastated….I couldn’t leave her after that.

We stayed together and tried to make it work, we even tried for another baby…but the child was stillborn. When she got pregnant for the third time, we were stationed in Germany and it seemed like this time it would all work out. Anais went into labour, but there were complications….something had ruptured…they tried to save Anais and the baby…. It wasn’t enough… I went into that hospital with my wife and our unborn child that day only to return to the base on my own.”

Jorah risked a glance and he was shocked to find Daenerys leaning forward to kiss him tenderly before touching her forehead to his.

“Thank you for being honest with me, Jorah. I am so sorry for what happened.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said, gently disengaging from her embrace. “Maybe if I had left Anais after the first miscarriage….maybe she would still be alive today. Her only fault was in getting mixed up with me in the first place.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jorah.”

He gave her a sad smile. “Aye, I wish that were true.”

“Jorah, if that’s the worst thing you’ve done, you sound like an angel compared to me.”

He frowned. No, getting involved with Lynesse had been the worst mistake of his life and would leave him with regrets he would take to his grave.

“Daenerys Targaryen, I refuse to believe that you’re anything but pure as the driven snow,” he teased her, feeling lighter for admitting to a portion of his past.

He’d intended his words to be humorous and felt guilty when he saw her face fall.

“Daenerys, what is it?” He asked with concern.

“I’m not as innocent as you think I am,” she said, hugging a cushion to her chest, her eyes cast downwards.

“You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to. You know that right?”

She gave him a watery smile, thinking how sweet he was not to push her. He’d confessed to her and it only seemed right that she did the same.

“My parents died when I was just a baby, so it was just me and my brothers for a while. Rhaegar was the eldest but he…” Daenerys paused as she chewed on her bottom lip. “He was killed in a fight,” she finished quietly.

Now it was Jorah’s turn to provide comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Then it was just me and Viserys and we were sent to friends and family for a while. Viserys was always a hothead and he’d get mad at me for the smallest things. When I was a teenager….he began to realise that he could use me for his own gain.”

It took all of Jorah’s restraint to keep his temper in check as he looked at her. She looked so ashamed of herself. He forced himself to keep quiet and let her continue in her own time.

“When I went to college I was finally able to get away from him and I….well, I guess I rebelled quite a bit.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Daenerys.”

She gave him a watery smile and shook her head.

“I drank a lot, did things that I shouldn’t have…got mixed up with all the wrong boys…I met this guy one night at college called Drogo and I thought he really liked me. He told me I was pretty and that any man would be lucky to have me. He bought me drinks all night and like an idiot, I took them.

He must have put something in one of my drinks because the next thing I remember was waking up lying next to him naked the next morning.”

Jorah took a moment to control the rage burning inside him.

“He raped you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

The quiet timbre of his voice spoke volumes as to his seething anger.

“I found out later that Viserys had told Drogo where to find me… told him what to say to me to get me interested in him. It turns out that my brother owed him money that he couldn’t pay back, so he used me instead.

I guess I should have told you that I’m soiled goods before we got involved with each other.”

The speed with which Jorah got to his feet made them both dizzy. Daenerys watched him pace back and forth in the living room as he ran his hand over his head.

“Is that what you think of me?” He asked quietly and she could see the tortured look in his eyes as he turned to look at her. “That I would reject you because some animal took advantage of you?”

She began to realise what her words must have sounded like.

“Jorah - “

He balled his hands into fists. “I’ll kill them. I’ll fucking kill them both!”

And she had no doubt that a man who’d served on the frontlines of a war for his country would be able to kill a man without a second thought.

“There’s no need,” she said as she sniffed away tears. “Drogo died of a drug overdose before he even finished college and my brother… he borrowed money off of the wrong loan shark and paid for it with his life.”

“Good,” Jorah said quickly, before realising what he’d said. “I’m sorry, I know he was your brother.”

She stood and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around him. She could feel the tension radiating from every pore of his being.

“Thank you,” she said as she kissed his cheek.

“What for?”

“For understanding…. For not treating me like a freak….. For wanting to kill them for what they did.”

He kissed her soundly. “Daenerys, I would protect you with my life. I would never let anyone hurt you. I love you.”

Held in his arms, she knew that every word he spoke was true. She had never felt so safe, so protected with any man before. It didn’t seem to matter what she confessed, he only seemed to love her more.

—————————————

Hours later, they found themselves side by side in bed.

Despite his protests, Daenerys had insisted on cooking him dinner while he sat on the couch admiring the way that she moved effortlessly around his kitchen. As much as he detested being idle, it had been a welcome change to have someone caring for him for once.

Jorah fidgeted uncomfortably for the fourth time in as many minutes.

Realising that he would prefer to suffer in silence, Daenerys popped out two of the pills the hospital had prescribed for pain relief and handed them to Jorah. It didn’t surprise her when he refused them.

“Jorah, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Daenerys huffed. “You’re wriggling like a salmon.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her words.

The doctor had warned that the virus combined with the effects of the chemotherapy treatment would leave Jorah with aching limbs and a constant dull pain radiating throughout his body.

“Please - “

“No.”

His belligerence was beginning to grate on her nerves.

“What is your problem?” She said, more tersely than she’d intended.

She saw him shrink back slightly at her tone.

He rubbed a tired hand over his face.

“Jorah,” she implored him. “Please, talk to me. I want to understand.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself.

“When I came back from Afghanistan….after the accident…. They kept giving me enough painkillers to knock me out. It was the only way I could get comfortable, but when they did, sometimes…. sometimes I’d be back in that truck, I’d be trapped as the fire ripped through and it would burn me for hours….it didn’t matter how long I was trapped there, I’d just keep feeling the flames burn me… I’d see the other men bleeding….burning….screaming. I’d see the driver’s head explode as the IED went off….I couldn’t wake up from it….it just kept playing on a loop, over and over again.”

He looked at her with such torment in his eyes that she instinctively reached out a hand to touch his face.

“I don’t want to go back there,” he told her honestly. “I _can’t_ go back there.”

It all seemed to make sense now - his reluctance to accept anything for the pain in the hospital and the way Mary had responded to him as she pleaded with him to take them. Daenerys had seen him toss and turn during his fevered moments but had no idea just how deep the scars of his time in the Army ran.

“I won’t let that happen, Jorah. I promise.”

He didn’t look convinced as she held out the pills to him once more.

“If you so much as twitch during the night, I’ll wake you up. I swear.”

He couldn’t doubt the sincerity in her voice and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to deny her anything should she ask it of him. He took the pills and the proffered glass and swallowed deeply, feeling Daenerys’ hands running across his head soothing him to sleep.

Long after his breathing had even out, Daenerys watched over him, knowing that her need to protect him was just as fierce as his was for her.


	12. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slower updates this week. I have been moving house and am now also the proud mother of two kittens which I have of course named Jorah and Khaleesi!

The weeks seemed to pass in a blur and all too quickly Christmas had arrived.

It had been four weeks since Jorah’s chemotherapy treatment had come to an end and it had been the start of a long and anxious wait to see if it had been successful.

“Are you ok?” Daenerys asked him as they sat in the waiting room. She could see his legs bounce nervously as he fidgeted in his chair.

He nodded his head and smiled at her, thankful that this smart, articulate, funny woman had come into his life. He couldn’t quite believe his luck that he was sitting here with the woman of his dreams.

What had made it even more unbelievable was that she had put her fears about her own cancer treatment to one side to support him to today’s appointment.

“Mr Mormont?” The specialist called out as he entered the waiting room.

Jorah stood quickly at the sound of his name, his hands shaking.

Taking Daenerys’ hand, he followed the oncologist into the private room.

“How are you feeling, Mr Mormont?” The doctor asked as he took a seat behind his desk and opened a folder, perusing its contents. “Chemotherapy is not a pleasant experience, I know.”

Jorah caught the way Daenerys rolled her eyes. This doctor sure had a way of stating the obvious.

“I’m just glad that its over,” Jorah replied honestly. He hoped the chemotherapy had been successful and that he wouldn’t need another cycle of treatment.

The doctor nodded his head as he continued to thumb through the paperwork.

“As you know, the tumour was found in your right testicle and that orchidectomy procedure was successful, but that we also found further cancer cells in the lymph nodes in your abdomen.”

The doctor made it sound so benign, as if he were reeling off a list of items on a shopping list.

“I have the results of the scans and blood tests.”

Jorah felt Daenerys grip his hander tighter. “Please,” he said through gritted teeth. “Please just tell me the results.”

The doctor closed the folder and pushed it to one side, smiling broadly. 

“The good news is that the scans showed no signs of any cancer cells in your lymph nodes and that your bloods have come back clear of any cancer markers.”

Jorah couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He looked at Daenerys and back to the doctor once more.

“Meaning?”

“It means that your cancer has gone, Mr Mormont.”

Jorah found himself lost for words. He opened and closed his mouth several times.

“Completely?”

The doctor nodded his head. “You’ll need further scans and blood tests over the coming months, but your prognosis of a complete recovery looks very positive.”

———————————

“I guess we couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas present, huh?” Daenerys said as Jorah let them into his apartment.

Jorah smiled. It had been ever-present on his face since the doctor had delivered the news that his treatment had been successful. It had been more than he could have hoped for. He’d prepared himself for expecting the worst and for the next cycle of chemotherapy treatment to begin.

He held her in his arms as his hands rested on the small of her back, the smile slowly dying on his face at her watery smile. Still in the midst of her own chemotherapy treatment, it must have seemed like a cruel blow to know that she alone would still have to face the uphill battle of ongoing treatment.

He kissed her forehead, bringing her closer to his chest, resting his head on top of hers. “I love you Daenerys Targaryen, and if I could swap places with you I would.”

She placed a hand on his chest, knowing that he would willingly take on her cancer as his own if he could. His every thought seemed to be only of her and her wants and needs.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” she replied, echoing the words he had said to her the first day they’d met.

It was Christmas Eve and although they had put up a tree with fairy lights, Daenerys couldn’t help but feel morose at what should be a time of happiness. Jorah’s test results were more than either of them had been expecting.

He seemed to know instinctively how tired she was as he guided her to their bedroom and took her in his arms as they both fell into a deep sleep.

—————————————

Daenerys woke to find Jorah’s side of the bed empty. She frowned as she sat up further in bed, a smile creeping across her features as she smelled the freshly-brewed coffee and the sound of Jorah singing softly in the kitchen.

Pulling on her dressing gown, she made her way into the kitchen, trying to stifle the yawn that seemed determined to escape her mouth.

“How long have you been up?” She asked, taking a sip of the coffee he’d handed her.

He shrugged his shoulders, a boyish grin on his face. “Just a little while,” he said as he sat next to her. “I wanted to see if Santa had been last night.”

The news from the hospital had certainly put a spring in his step and Daenerys realised that this was the first time that she’d ever seen him carefree and unburdened. He’d been through so much, not only recently, but throughout his life, that it seemed as if a dark cloud of melancholy had followed him constantly.

No matter how bad he’d felt during his chemo treatment, he had always put her first. As unsure as she felt about her own prognosis, she could not deny that Jorah, more than anyone she had ever known, deserved to be happy.

“And has Santa been?” She asked playfully, putting her own dark thoughts to one side.

She found herself being gently pulled toward the couch in the living room and she could imagine Jorah as an excitable little boy. No wonder Mary had wanted to marry him when they were ten. She could only imagine what he would be like if they had children.

The thought brought Daenerys up short. Where the hell had that come from?

It wasn’t as if either of them, psychologically or physically, were in any position to further their relationship beyond that of kissing and cuddling. She didn’t even know if she would still be alive this time next year.

“Here, this is for you,” Daenerys said as she lifted a gifted from under the tree and handed it to him. She smiled when she saw how carefully he opened it.

He held up the rugby shirt, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve kind of stolen your other one,” she explained. Jorah’s old rugby top had become her favourite sleepwear. “There’s something else in there too.”

He looked in the wrapping paper and pulled out an envelope. He looked at her and couldn’t quite believe that she’d bought him tickets to Scotland’s match against England at next year’s Six Nations.

“How?” He asked as he looked at the tickets again.

“I did some freelance work for one of their sponsors and so I called in a favour or two.” She picked at the hem of her sleeve. “Do you like them?”

He answered her with a deep and sensual kiss. “I love them. And I love you.”

She broke away reluctantly from his embrace and handed him another gift. He laughed as he lifted the box out of the wrapping paper.

“The full gentleman’s grooming kit?” He chuckled, scratching at his beard.

She’d taken a gamble on his test results coming back positive yesterday and would have thrown the gift away if the news had not been good.

“Your hair’s already started growing back,” she observed, running a hand over his head.

“It’s not like a I had a full head of hair before the chemo began,” he said ruefully.

He’d returned her generosity in kind with several gifts of his own and it had truly touched Daenerys at how much thought he’d put into each and every one. She had opened them all except one. She noticed the way Jorah’s hands shook as he handed her his final gift.

After carefully removing the wrapping paper, she lifted the small box and looked at the man she loved. She assumed that he had bought her some sort of expensive jewellery. 

“You shouldn’t have,” she said as tears glistened in her eyes. She didn’t deserve the generosity of this wonderful man.

He smiled shyly at her. “Open it.”

She had expected a necklace or a bracelet. Instead, nestled snugly inside the box was a set of keys - house keys.

She felt her bottom lip tremble as Jorah knelt on one knee on the floor, taking the keys from the box and laying them reverently in her open palm.

“Daenerys Targaryen, would you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honour of officially moving in with me?”

Without needing a second to think about it, she launched herself into his arms. “Yes. Oh god, yes!”

What had started as a tender kiss between them quickly turned into something much more passionate.

Grabbing the back of his head, Daenerys pulled him closer as their tongues began duelling with one another. She could feel his hands running up and down her back as he sought to bring her close to his own body until she was straddling his lap.

Months of pent-up anxiety, mixed with a heavy dose of want and desire seemed to have ignited an uncontrollable fire between them, their hands roaming freely over each other’s bodies as they clung to one another desperately.

Her hands found their way to the buttons of his shirt. She undid them haphazardly and smiled at his hiss of pleasure as she ran her hands over his bare chest, her fingers dancing over a number of scars that she found there.

She felt his mouth on her neck as he trailed wet kisses to every part of her exposed flesh that he could find. She found herself getting lost in the sensation of his hot breath on her body and the way it caused a pleasant sensation between her legs.

Pushing him back against the sofa, she readjusted her position and kissed him deeply once more. She felt his hands on her waist as he tried to pull her even closer to his body before they began snaking towards her chest.

She felt his hands fall away from her body the moment she’d tensed at his touch.

The reaction had been instinctual. She couldn’t bear the thought of being touched in the area where her breast used to be.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears cascading down her cheeks. She knew he would be disappointed in her seeming frigidity.

He lifted a hand to gently cradled her cheek. “Hey, it’s ok,” he said as he kissed her forehead. 

She was still sitting on his lap and could feel his evident arousal.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she began, before another barrage of tears assaulted her.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her softly.

How could he be so understanding? 

They’d done nothing except kiss and hold each other for months. Surely he would get bored of her holding out on him and leave her to face the rest of her cancer treatment alone.

She shook her head. “It does matter, Jorah. Sex is important.”

“I don’t care about that.”

She looked at him, puzzled. Sex was usually all men thought about. It was the cornerstone to any relationship she’d ever had. What did it leave if sex wasn’t available?

“I really want to, Jorah,” she tried to explain. “I just don’t think I’m there yet. I want to give you what you want….what you deserve.”

He kissed her gently on the lips and rested his forehead on hers.

“You already have,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

She couldn’t keep the fear from her voice. It had been a thought that had plagued her for weeks now.

“What if we run out of time?” She continued. “I want you to love me, Jorah. What if we can’t?”

“I’d wait a thousand lifetimes for you Daenerys,” he told her fiercely. “I want to give you the world. I’d do anything to make you happy and I want to love you properly, more than you’ll ever know. But I want you to want it, not because you think it’s what I want.”

What had she ever done right to deserve this man coming into her life?

She thought she’d been in love before, but what she felt for Jon Snow was nothing in comparison to the way that Jorah made her feel. This man in her arms would ask for nothing more than she was willing or able to give and yet he had already given her the most precious gift. He had somehow found a way to pick up all of her broken pieces and glue them back together and she knew, without a doubt, that she would never love another man the way that she loved Jorah.


	13. You Are My Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who would like to see photos of my kittens, Jorah and Khaleesi, you can find them under my username on Tumblr which is 'FanOfTheKnight'.

“Are you ready?” Jorah asked as he squeezed her hand.

Daenerys felt words fail her. She could no longer form a coherent thought. The day had finally arrived. She would find out one way or another if the second round of chemotherapy had been successful.

They had attended her first appointment in early January and while the specialist had made reassuring noises, the fact that the cancer cells had only shrunk and not disappeared completely meant that she’d had to go through another six weeks of chemotherapy treatment.

As much as she’d tried to stay positive after that first appointment, negative thoughts plagued her every waking moment. As the second round of chemotherapy began, she was sure that she was going to die.

It had seemed so cruel that she’d continued to have the poisonous drugs injected into her veins while Jorah steadily grew stronger and healthier as the last remnants of the treatment left his body and hers continued to waste away before her eyes.

Already knowing what to expect from a second round of chemo had not made its effects any easier to deal with. As the drugs effects took hold, the nausea and cramping returned and had left her feeling less of a woman with each day that passed.

And yet Jorah had remained by her side throughout. He had supported her to each treatment session and cared for her in the days in between. He would hold her in his arms as she cried and soak up the anger she felt at her body’s insistence on failing her at every turn.

She was bald, emaciated, and drawn and yet he still looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Any thoughts she’d entertained of consummating their relationship had vanished as the chemo drugs surged through her veins for a second time. Not only did she not have the energy, she had never felt less attractive than through that second course of treatment.

Her last dose of chemotherapy had been four weeks ago and while the effects were slowly dissipating and a considerable amount of her energy had returned, her hair had not grown back as quickly as she would have liked.

Sitting in the waiting room, she resigned herself to the fact that she would no doubt have to go through of it all again. 

“Miss Targaryen?”

She felt Jorah squeeze her hand as they made their way into the private room. They’d done this twice already. Experiencing the anxiety that came before hearing the results was starting to become second nature to both of them.

“Thank you for coming in today, Miss Targaryen. You’re looking well.”

She cut the doctor off quickly, not interested in whatever platitudes he was trying to give her.

“Please, just cut to the chase and tell me the results.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Ok, I’ll get straight to the point. The second round of chemotherapy has successfully removed any cancer markers in your blood work and I'm glad to say that your scans have come back clear.”

Daenerys knew she would have collapsed and fallen from the chair had Jorah’s strong arms not been there to hold her up.

“It’s gone?” she asked, feeling lightheaded.

“It has, Miss Targaryen. I’m pleased to say that all of your test results indicate a positive outcome. You’ll need further follow-up tests in the coming months, but your prognosis for a complete recovery is highly likely.”

She hadn’t really paid much attention to whatever else the doctor had said as his words rung in her ears. After months of gruelling treatment, she was cancer-free and finally hopeful that she could now get on with the rest of her life.

She’d felt Jorah’s strong arms around her as they held on to each other and wept tears of relief. 

It was over. 

It was finally over.

—————————

A week later and Jorah had finally made good on his promise to take her out to dinner.

Buoyed by her good news, Daenerys had bought a dress for their first official ‘date’ and had refused to let him see it until now.

She’d gotten changed in the spare bedroom while Jorah dressed quietly in the one they shared.

She walked into the main bedroom, her eyes widening when she caught sight of Jorah in his black suit. The black shirt he was wearing underneath and the leather belt around his trousers showed off his slim hips and waist.

As his energy and general health returned, he’d taken to jogging around the streets of Edinburgh and pushing himself through ever-increasing numbers of sit-ups and push-ups.

His hair was neatly combed and his beard trimmed and he looked every inch the handsome and debonaire man.

She smiled shyly when she saw his expression. He was staring at her with his mouth slightly open.

“Daenerys….you look….stunning.”

Her hair was still nothing more than stubble on her scalp and so she had wrapped the silk scarf he’d bought her all those months ago around her head. She still felt less than attractive, but her heart soared at the way he was looking at her.

The cab driver had taken them through a seemingly never ending series of side streets and the journey had taken longer than Daenerys had been expecting.

“Are we even still in Scotland?” She asked playfully as the cab finally pulled up outside a small restaurant.

Ever the gentleman, Jorah got out and opened her door, offering his arm as she climbed out.

He smiled, leading her into the small, intimate restaurant that seemed miles from the bustling streets of the city centre.

Jorah shook the hand of the maître d warmly and it was clear that the two men knew each other as they chatted amiably as they were shown to their table.

“What is this place?” Daenerys asked, placing her purse on the floor.

Jorah shrugged. “This is the best restaurant in Edinburgh.”

“I didn’t even know it existed.”

He smiled. “That’s what makes it the best in the city. That and it has the best food you’ll ever taste.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across it. “This is on me. Order anything you like. I guarantee you’ll love it.”

He certainly hadn’t been wrong. All three courses had been delicious and now that the effects of the chemo had almost completely worn off Daenerys found her appetite returning with a vengeance.

They had just ordered coffee when a voice called out, “Captain Mormont as I live and breathe!”

Daenerys would never get over how cute Jorah looked when he blushed.

She watched him stand, embracing the man who stood in a stained chef’s outfit.

“Thoros, it’s good to see you,” Jorah said as the two men clapped each other on the back. “How’s the business?”

The chef shrugged. “Can’t complain. It pays for the brandy, old friend.”

“You two know each other?” Daenerys smiled.

Jorah looked embarrassed, realising that he hadn’t introduced her.

“Daenerys, this is - “

Thoros beat him to it.

“I’m Thoros and I’m enchanted to meet you,” he said, kissing her hand.

“Keep it in your pants, hotshot,” Jorah growled before looking at Daenerys, “Please excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Thoros watched his old friend walk towards the bathrooms and took his opportunity to sit at the table.

“How did a beautiful woman end up with someone like him?”

She could see by the smile on the chef’s face that he was teasing her.

“We met in hospital.”

Thoros nodded. “I’d heard about his cancer. Old Army buddies are the worst gossips,” he added at her puzzled expression.

“You served together?”

“Aye, Mormont was the captain of our unit,” Thoros replied, a hint of admiration in his tone. “His men would follow him to hell and back if he asked them to.”

“He doesn’t talk much about his time in the Army,” Daenerys said quietly.

“Any man turns into a beast whenever you put a weapon in his hand,” he said cryptically. “There are many things we’ve seen on the battlefield that can never be unseen. War changes a man.”

“Did it change Jorah?”

Thoros smiled and let out a small laugh. “Not when I knew him. He’d always lead his men from the front...would never send any man where he wasn’t prepared to go himself. Most commanding officers wouldn’t venture any further than the base camp, but the Captain would go out every day with the men in his unit. The mad bastard.”

She raised an eyebrow as the man before her helped himself to remnants of Jorah’s glass of wine.

“I remember one time when were patrolling an abandoned street, looking for Taliban fighters. All of a sudden our man on point fell to his knees. He’d been shot by a sniper.”

She watched as he poured himself more wine, gulping that down too.

“Suddenly there were bullets flying everywhere. Mormont shouts at me to cover him as he runs over to drag our man back into one of the empty buildings with shrapnel and crap flying all around him.

I helped him drag the poor kid in while one of our unit radioed for backup. We were pinned in by the snipers…the kid who’d been shot was bleeding out in front of us.”

Thoros shook his head mournfully.

“He was just a fucking kid. He was crying…telling us he didn’t want to die. He begged us not to leave him and Mormont just knelt next to him…blood running down his own back, talking to him. He starts telling the kid this story about knights and maidens and fuck knows what else and you know what?” Thoros didn’t wait for her to answer. “The kid starts to calm down, he stops screaming for his mother. He bled out and I swear to god that the kid looked relaxed when he took his last breath in Mormont’s arms.”

Thoros lifted the wine bottle once more and had been disappointed to find it empty. He placed it back on the table with a dull thud.

“You know, he talked to that kid the whole time while he had a bullet in his own fucking back?”

Daenerys let out a small gasp.

Thoros shook his head, “It wasn’t until he keeled over that we even realised he’d been hit. I pulled his kevlar off and there was a fucking sniper’s bullet sticking out under his collarbone. The fucking chopper’s nowhere to be seen and he’s bleeding like stuck pig.

I could see the other boys in the unit starting to panic. If Mormont went down, we were all going down and they knew it. And so what did Mormont do?”

Thoros didn’t wait for her answer. “He starts telling us a story about a knight and some dragon princess just to calm us down. He was just getting to the good bit when the chopper landed and got us the hell out of there. Bastard never did tell me how that story ended.”

“Mormont and his fucking stories,” Thoros muttered to himself. “At least some good came of the whole fucking mess.”

“That’s when he started writing?” Daenerys asked. As much as she missed Jorah’s company at the table, the man in front of her was sharing pieces of Jorah’s life that he likely wouldn’t divulge to her willingly.

“There’s a lot of downtime when you’re out in the desert. There’s not much for a man to do other than…..uh….pine for the woman he loves. The Captain always had a notebook with him, told me writing took his mind off the horrors of war.” Thoros chuckled to himself. “It looked quite odd, this massive bear of a man with his little book and pen. People would have taken the piss if they hadn’t admired him so much.” Thoros shook his head, a sour expression crossing his face. “That man sacrificed everything for his country and what did they do? They dumped him without a second thought after that fucking IED went off. They gave him his papers and told him they were invaliding him out. Fucking bastards.”

“Watch your tongue, Thoros. There’s a lady present,” Jorah growled as he returned to the table, pulling his wallet from his trouser pocket.

Thoros stood up quickly and held up his hand. “Your money is no good around here, Captain. This one’s on me.”

“Thoros….”

The man refused to budge. “You saved my arse out there more times than I can count. Call this a repayment of sorts.”

Jorah let out a resigned sigh and tucked his wallet back into his trousers, shaking Thoros by the hand and pulling him closer. “If you want to find out how the story ends, buy the damn book like everyone else.”

Thoros grinned. “Aye, ya tight bastard. It’s good to see you looking well, Captain.”

“I wish I could say the same about you,” Jorah shot back with a frown. “You need to lay off the brandy.”

Thoros scoffed. “Why do you think I own a restaurant? Honestly, it’s good to see that you’ve kicked the cancer in the balls.”

Jorah winced at his choice of words, annoyed that word of his illness seemed to have spread between his former colleagues.

Thoros continued undeterred. “If bullets and bombs can’t kill you then fucking cancer isn’t going to either.”


	14. This Guy's In Love With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of those who were interested, I have posted a one-shot based on the story Thoros tells Daenerys in the previous chapter called 'Brothers In Arms'. If you click on 'More Than Words' series, you'll be able to find it.
> 
> Anyone who spots the subtle GoT show reference in the chapter below gets 10 bonus points... :)

The cab ride back to the apartment passed in companionable silence until Daenerys spoke softly. “Thoros is certainly an interesting man.”

She heard Jorah chuckle. “Aye,” he said ruefully, rubbing at his chin. “The man has a damn mouth on him though. I hope he wasn’t improper with you.”

She patted his leg, leaving her hand there and smiling seductively at him.

“He was an absolute gentleman. Although he told me some very interesting tales about you when you were gone.” She heard him snort derisively. “He speaks very highly of you.”

Perhaps it had been mean to say it, but she would never get enough of watching Jorah squirm uncomfortably at a compliment. She found his nervous fidgeting utterly endearing.

They soon found themselves back in the apartment. Jorah looked at her with a tired grin on his face as he leaned back against the front door. “As far as first dates go….” he began as he lifted her chin, “I think that went quite well.”

She accepted his chaste kiss eagerly. 

“Do you now?” She teased, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“Aye,” he said lazily. “I got to spend the evening with the most gorgeous woman and I didn’t even have to pay for dinner.”

It had become more commonplace since both of their cancer treatments were over, but she would never grow tired of seeing his lips quirk into a smile.

“Are you tired?” She asked coyly as her hands went to the buttons on his shirt.

He seemed to pick up on her unspoken question.

He gulped deeply. “Are you sure?”

She answered him by taking him by the hand and pulling him toward the bedroom.

He watched transfixed as she carefully removed the headscarf with trembling hands. He took his suit jacket off and laid it on the dresser before making his way towards her, kissing her deeply when their lips finally made contact.

“You…are…so…beautiful,” he said between fevered kisses across her mouth and face.

Any lingering doubts she had were soon dispelled by his look of utter devotion as his lips travelled across her face and neck.

Her hands travelled to the nape of his neck, running through his hair as he pulled her closer to him, leaving her in no doubt about how much he wanted her right now. Her hands travelled to the front of his shirt and between them they undid the buttons as she tugged the material out of the waistband of his trousers.

He shrugged the shirt off and let it fall to the floor as she took a step back, watching his chest heave as she looked at him, passion clouding her eyes. He stood rigid as her hands and then her mouth travelled over a number of the scars across his chest and abdomen. Her tongue snaked across a particularly sensitive area just beneath his collarbone and he let out a low growl of need.

Now it was his turn to break away from her as his eyes sought permission to unzip her dress. She nodded and then let out a sigh, feeling his lips on her shoulder blade as the dress fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her matching bra and panties. She could feel his gaze on her exposed body as he stood before her once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked again.

She responded by grabbing his belt buckle and unzipping his trousers. He nudged her gently toward the bed as he kicked off his trousers and laid her down on the mattress, leaning his body over hers.

“I love you, Daenerys Targaryen,” he said as he kissed her neck and made his way down her chest. He got to the valley of where both breasts should have been and looked at her, once more seeking permission. She nodded her head and gasped as his hand made contact with her right breast while his mouth kissed the scarred area where her left breast used to be.

He’d stopped as soon as he’d heard her gasp.

“Don’t stop,” she said in a breathy whisper.

Soon his hands were travelling towards her hips as he deftly removed her panties, throwing them carelessly off the bed as his head began to travel further south. Soon it became clear just what he intended to do.

She’d been with men before who had gone down on her, but it had only been with the agreement that she would return the favour. She’d never been particularly keen on taking a man into her mouth, but had done so to please her lovers. None of the men she’d ever been with had instigated this kind of foreplay with her and it was clear that Jorah knew just what he was doing as his lips travelled up each thigh in turn.

She let out another gasp of pleasure as his lips and tongue made contact with the most intimate area of her body. The feel of his beard gently scraping her inner thighs only increased the pressure that she felt as his mouth worked a surreal kind of magic over her body.

She could do nothing except hold his head closer to her as he expertly brought her to her release with his mouth alone. Just when she thought she had reached her highest peak, his hand snaked to her warm, moist centre.

“Oh my god,” she sighed as she felt his finger enter her. “Jorah.”

“Hmmm?” He asked, his mouth working its way further up her body to return to her mouth.

She reached down to pull at the waistband of his boxer shorts and felt him tense suddenly.

She knew instinctively how self-conscious the missing area of his anatomy made him feel. Just as her missing breast made her feel less of a woman, his missing testicle had no doubt made him feel less of a man.

Her hand stroked his hard length as she looked at him with pleading eyes. He positioned himself carefully over her and both of them let out a long breath as finally, after months of anxiety and fear, their bodies joined as one.

He stilled his body for a moment, revelling in the feel of being inside the woman he loved for the first time, the way that their bodies fit together like missing puzzle pieces.

He kissed her deeply as his hips began to move, eliciting a moan from her with each thrust. He lifted one of her legs higher and smiled as she let out a shriek of pure pleasure as he hit that special spot deep inside her.

“What you’re doing,” she panted breathlessly, “don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

He continued to assault her face and neck with moist kisses as he moved inside her, feeling her other leg wrap around his hip as he continued to thrust, lost in the feeling of being one with the woman he loved. They had waited so long to be together that he had wanted this moment to last forever.

He could feel her inner walls tighten as their bodies rocked together and he held her tightly as her release took her over the edge into ecstasy once more. The feel of her contracting around his length caused him to follow her soon after as he spilled into her, letting out a deep groan as he did so.

He’d tried to roll off of her, knowing that he weighed considerably more than she did, but her legs held him in place as she kissed him soundly.

“Jorah,” she said in a breathy moan. “Where…..how?”

He withdrew from her reluctantly and lay beside her, trying to catch his breath. He felt exactly the same. He couldn’t quite put into words how wonderful it felt to finally make love to this entrancing, exotic and bewitching woman.

“I can do better than that,” he said, taking her into his arms.

“Are you kidding me? That’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” she responded quickly as her hand snaked lazily up and down his chest.

And it was the truth. The other men she had been with had been far too concerned about their own needs to even think about meeting hers. All too often, she’d had to fake an orgasm for the sake of their egos and then find a moment to finish herself off while they fell into a deep sleep beside her. Jorah had brought her to her peak not only once, but twice.

He kissed her forehead and looked at her in amazement. 

“How could any man not want to worship you?”

She realised that he was taking to himself more than her but she knew that his actions as he devoured her body had been that of a man who was worshiping the woman before him. Even though she was missing a breast, she couldn’t doubt that he was attracted to her physically. He made her feel more of a woman than any man ever had.

Her hand found its way underneath the duvet and began snaking toward his groin. She felt him tense suddenly as he realised what she meant to do.

“Daenerys, please,” he begged her as he grabbed her wrist gently. It had been one thing to make love to her, but it was clear that he was still ashamed that a part of him was missing.

“Do you care about my breast?” She asked him honestly.

“Of course I don’t,” he shot back quickly.

“Then why do you think I care about this?” She said as she cupped his one remaining testicle.

He let out a deep groan at the feeling of her hand on him.

“It’s the first time that David has been without Dan.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she removed her hand and rested her head on a propped elbow. “What?”

He blushed deeply as his eyes drifted underneath the duvet. “My balls,” he said quietly.

She was giggling now. “You named your balls?”

He looked at her blankly. “Don’t women name parts of their anatomy?”

She shook her head at his adorable cuteness. “Well, you certainly introduced yourself thoroughly to Valerie tonight,” she teased. “No Jorah, women don’t name parts of their body. Maybe it’s just a guy thing. You seriously are the most adorable dork I’ve ever met. No, scrap that - you’re a-Jorah-able,” she added as an afterthought, giggling at her own play on words as he let out a groan.

She rested her head on his chest and felt more at ease than she had in many months, her eyes drooping slowly closed as she fell asleep in the arms of the man she loved.


	15. Thank God I Found You

Daenerys woke to find herself alone in the bed and judging by the cool feel of the sheets, Jorah had risen some time ago.

It was not uncommon for him to wake early and she knew that his experiences in the Army still haunted his dreams from time to time. Sometimes, they would be enough for him to move back and forth in the bed and mumble words under his breath. At others, they would be bad enough to cause his whole body to shake and for him to call out in his sleep.

Luckily, she’d found that during the lesser dreams, her touch alone would be enough to soothe him. On the occasions when his nightmares were severe, she would shake him awake and then hold him tightly as he came to his senses.

He would apologise profusely for waking her of course, and it would be then that she would kiss him soundly and entice him into something far more pleasurable than his dark dreams. It would usually be enough to lull him back into a deeper sleep, one where the ghosts of his past couldn’t reach him for a time.

Daenerys wracked her brain, trying to recall if Jorah’s sleep had been disturbed last night. She frowned when she realised that they’d both slept soundly the whole night.

Last night…..

Several weeks after they’d first made love, whatever barriers that had prevented them from being intimate had been blown away by that night. Freed from the shackles of their own self doubt, they found themselves liberated and increasingly adventurous when it came to their couplings.

Daenerys doubted that there was an area in Jorah’s apartment that they hadn’t used as a makeshift bed. From the kitchen table, the couch, to walls and floors, they had been insatiable for one another. They had barely made it through the front door after heading out for dinner last night before their clothes were discarded and he took her right there and then, the door banging noisily as they moved together.

She knew Jorah was fit and strong, but she hadn’t realised just how much stamina he had. He put all of her previous lovers to shame when it came to the physical side of their relationship. As both their health and energy returned, they’d found a unique way to burn some of the excess off.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness when she spied the old rugby top at the end of the bed, knowing that he’d left it there for her. Her clothes were no doubt still somewhere by the front door as they’d divested each other of every piece of clothing during their passionate encounter.

She pulled it on and made her way to the kitchen, amused by the sound of Jorah singing softly to himself. He stopped abruptly when he heard her enter the room and she saw his cheeks blush a deep red.

“Sorry,” he said as he scratched the back of his head.

She walked over and kissed him.

“Don’t be,” she said between chaste kisses. “You have a lovely voice.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Who knew you could do so many things with that mouth of yours?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

Oh, the things he could do with his mouth that would send her to her peak over and over again….

He changed the subject as he wrapped his arms around her lower back.

“What are your plans for today?”

Now that her future looked positive as far as her health was concerned, Daenerys had started thinking of getting back to her freelance work as a graphic designer. It occurred to her recently that she couldn’t keep living off of Jorah’s generosity alone.

Not that he would ever ask her for a penny, she felt bad that she’d not been contributing to what was now officially their home together.

“I’m going to go through the ads and see if I can find some work.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead, knowing that she was eager to get her life back on track as quickly as possible.

“What are you up to today?” She asked him, resting her head against his chest. 

She felt him chuckle in the way that turned her insides to jelly. Just the rumble in his chest was enough to make her want him all over again.

She ran her hand seductively across his chest, only to have it stopped by his gentle grip.

“Something that you’re not allowed to see,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers. “Yet.”

“How come?” She pouted.

He trailed the backs of his fingers tenderly across her cheek. “I’m going to be in the spare room for most of the day. Promise me you won’t peek?”

“Are you working on something?” She asked, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. He was keeping something from her, she could tell.

“You could say that,” he said cryptically as he gently disengaged from her, laughing at her dramatic sigh as he left the room.

After a couple of fruitless hours searching for freelance work and sending off her CV to multiple companies, Daenerys could no longer resist the urge to find out what her lover was doing.

Walking down the hallway, she stood outside the closed door.

“Daenerys, I know you’re there,” he laughed through the door. “You stood on the squeaky floorboard.”

“Are you done yet?” She knew she sounded childish, but she couldn’t help it, she hated not knowing what he was doing in there.

“Not quite. But soon, I promise. Ok?”

She’d heard the odd banging noise and Jorah moving about in the room but had been at a loss as to what he was doing that she wasn’t allowed to see.

Heading back to the kitchen, she made herself a coffee and returned to the hallway, placing a mug outside the door for Jorah. 

She smiled to herself as she heard him open and close the door quickly, imagining the shy smile that would no doubt be on his face when he saw the coffee she’d brought him.

Making herself comfortable at the kitchen table, she pulled her phone out and dialled a familiar number.

“Dany, it’s so good to hear from you!”

She smiled at Missy’s voice. She’d missed speaking to her best friend.

While they’d kept in contact during her chemotherapy treatment, Daenerys had been too sick to travel and Missy had been snowed under with work. It seemed like it had been years since they’d last seen each other.

“How’s London?” Daenerys asked, hoping that the topic of Jon Snow would not crop up in their conversation.

“Busy. Dirty. Loud,” Missy replied. “You know, the usual.”

“So I’m not missing anything?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Missy sighed. “I miss you though.”

“I miss you too. It’s just…it’s been a hell of a six months,” Daenerys admitted.

It had, in many ways, been the worst six months of her life, yet in others it had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. If she hadn’t walked in to that treatment room on the same day as Jorah, their paths may never have crossed at all.

Daenerys realised that she would not have changed a thing about the last six months. After all, it had brought her here, to a place where she finally felt good about herself and where her life was heading.

And Jorah had been the one to instil that belief in her, whether he realised it or not.

“So the treatments are finally over?” Missy asked.

“Yep, thank god. I still have to go for regular check ups, but it’s over. It’s finally over.”

Daenerys could feel her bottom lip tremble at the relief she felt knowing that she was well on her way to becoming healthy again.

“And Jorah too?”

Daenerys smiled at the hopeful tone in her friend’s voice. Although Missy and Jorah had never met, Daenerys had made sure to tell each other about them.

“Things are going well between you?” Missy prompted.

She smiled at the thought of just how well they fit together. Like two perfect puzzle pieces.

For the first time in her life, she felt like an equal in a relationship. With Jorah, it was give and take and they both seemed to know just what the other needed, whether it was comfort or space from one another. In fact, Daenerys could not recall either of them having a harsh word to say to each other in the entire time they’d known each other.

“Come on, Dany. Spill the beans,” Missy teased. “Is it true what they say about an older man?”

Daenerys blushed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t be coy. You know _exactly_ what I mean!”

“Missy, he’s just down the hall. He’ll hear us talking.”

She heard Missy laugh. “Ok, I’ll throw out some suggestions and you can tell me either yes or no.”

Daenerys chewed her bottom lip, not sure that she wanted to play this game with her best friend.

“Is he the best sex you’ve ever had?”

The fact that Missy had come straight out and said it caught her off-guard.

“Missy!” She exclaimed, feeling her cheeks redden. Her friend was more right than she realised.

She’d been with other men before, but Jorah had a way of setting her body on fire with his ministrations. He could make her lose all rational thought when his hands and mouth found their way across the supple plains of her body.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“Do you think he’s the one?” Missy asked her.

It had been a question that had been playing on her mind ever since her test results had come back clear. She realised that the way she felt for Jorah was completely different to anyone else she’d ever dated.

It hadn’t exactly been the conventional start to a relationship. They’d met when neither of them could have been at a lower ebb in their lives. Perhaps that was what made their relationship different, that they had seen one another at their worst and still they were drawn to each other.

“Would you like to meet him?” Daenerys asked tentatively. It would mean the world to her if the two people she cared about the most got on with each other. She couldn’t bear the thought of Missy being at odds with Jorah like she had been with Jon Snow.

Maybe Missy had been right all along in not trusting Jon. He’d betrayed her in the worst way possible. He’d always told her that family and loyalty meant everything to him, yet he’d pierced her heart with his sharpened tongue as he whispered her secrets to Sansa Stark.

Missy laughed. “Yeah, I need to make sure this dream man of yours really exists. He sounds too good to be true.”

She knew Missy was only teasing, but she’d often convinced herself that there was some catch. Life had never been so good to her as to give her everything she’d wanted. Life didn’t work out that way for her. It never had.

“Maybe you could come up and visit us?” Daenerys suggested, secretly holding out hope that Missy would make the effort to visit before her birthday next month.

“Yeah,” Missy said, sounding slightly distracted. “I might be able to squeeze a visit in maybe next month or the month after.”

Daenerys couldn’t help but feel disheartened that she would have to wait even longer for her friend to visit.

“Listen, Dany. I have to go, but you know I love you, right?”

She tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Placing the phone on the table, she drained the last of her coffee only to find that it had long turned cold. 

She felt Jorah’s hand on her shoulder as he gave it a gentle squeeze. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him enter the room.

“Was that your friend Missy?”

Daenerys nodded her head, painting a smile on her face to hide her sadness.

“You miss her, don’t you?”

She stood and wrapped her arms around him, knowing that his strong arms alone would always protect her, even from her own melancholy.

He disengaged gently from her and took her by the hand, leading her to the closed door of the spare room. He nodded at her to open it.

She took a step inside and gasped as her eyes took it in. All of her work tools were neatly placed on a desk and the room’s furniture had been moved to make enough space for her to work comfortably.

“You did this for me?” She asked as she turned to look at him.

He gave her that shy smile as his eyes looked up at her from his bowed head.

“I know you want to get back to work now the chemo’s over. I thought you’d like your own space to do it in.”

He was right, of course. There would be no way she could use the kitchen table to carry out her work. She’d need a dedicated space with all of her gear easily on hand.

He looked at her like a shy little boy seeking an adult’s approval. 

“I’m sorry for being evasive with you this morning. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

She realised that nothing should surprise her about this man any more. His every thought seemed to be of her, of protecting her, caring for her and loving her.

“You’ve turned my world on its head, Daenerys. You’ve given me so much more than you’ll ever know. I’d do anything for you. I just want you to be happy.”

He’d opened up his life, his heart, and his home to her and Daenerys knew, without a doubt, that he alone made her happy. The world could fall down around them and she wouldn’t care less. All that mattered was the two of them, the rest of the world be damned.


	16. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

Daenerys let out a defeated sigh, throwing her pencil onto the desk before running her hand through her short hair. Several weeks had passed since her last chemotherapy session and her hair was slowly growing back, although it would probably take until the end of the year for it to be back to the length that she was accustomed to.

She’d managed to pick up a number of contracts for freelance work and both she and Jorah had fallen into an easy routine when it came to their working day. She would set up shop in the room they had now christened her ‘office’ and Jorah would use either the couch or the kitchen table, tapping away on his laptop for the new book he’d been working on.

She’d asked him several times if she could have a sneak peek at what he was writing, but each time she approached him, he quickly shut the lid down before she could see what he was doing.

Maybe he was always secretive when it came to writing a new book and Daenerys knew firsthand how a misplaced or overheard word to the wrong person could end with someone else stealing the credit for the project you’d worked so hard on.

She tried to not let it bother her that he didn’t seem to trust her when it came to his work. Hadn’t they both been to hell and back? Surely there wasn’t any question of her loyalty to him.

It had also began to gnaw at her as to how distracted he had been for the past few weeks. He would sneak a look at his phone when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, but he’d spent far more time on it recently than he ever had in all of the time she’d known him.

She turned when she saw him standing in the hallway, shrugging on a light jacket.

“I need to pop out for a couple of hours. My agent wants to go through some of the rough drafts of the manuscript.”

Her heart sank. 

She’d woken this morning to breakfast in bed and had smiled at the sight of Jorah in nothing but a dressing gown as he held a tray out to her.

“Happy birthday,” he’d said as he kissed her and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You didn’t have to,” she’d replied, touched at his thoughtfulness.

“My queen deserves nothing less,” he grinned as her handed her a birthday card.

She opened it and felt her heart swell at the sweet words he had written inside it.

“Don’t I get a gift?” She pouted.

“Oh, that comes later,” he replied cryptically.

Placing the tray to one side, she grabbed the lapels of his dressing gown and moved them away from his body. She looked him up and down seductively.

“Can I unwrap this present now?”

And it had certainly been a gift worth waiting for, Daenerys thought as she tried to keep her current disappointment at bay.

“When will you be back?”

She tried not to sound too desperate or clingy, but she’d hoped that Jorah would have planned to spend the day with her.

“I’ll probably be a couple of hours,” he said as he came over and kissed her on the head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

——————————

Daenerys tried to keep her mind on her work but found herself distracted by her phone. It had been three hours since Jorah had left and he’d still not returned or even texted her to say that he was running late.

She’d been about to make herself a cup of coffee when the doorbell chimed. She hoped that it would be a courier with a gift from Missy to make up for the fact that her best friend hadn’t even called her or sent a card to wish her a happy birthday.

She opened the door to find a stern-looking older woman.

“Can I help you?” She asked as the woman continued to stare at her with narrowed eyes.

“Who are you, the hired help?”

The woman’s posh accent spoke of wealth and good breeding. Daenerys felt herself being scrutinised as the woman’s eyes penetrated her.

“No. I live here,” Daenerys replied, trying not to show her discomfort at being appraised like a piece of meat.

“Another one of Mormont’s fancy girls?” The woman sniffed. “I never did like that last one. Linda or something like that.” The woman pursed her lips, giving her face a sour expression. “She was all fur coat and no knickers, that one. Took the gullible bastard for what she could and then left him behind.”

The words wounded her. Jorah had been reluctant to talk about his second marriage and had often cut off any conversation about his time with Lynesse. She knew nothing about her save her name and how long they had been married for.

“What do you want?” Daenerys ground out.

The woman smirked. “Straight to the point. I like that. I’m Olenna Tyrell.”

“Should I know who that is?”

The woman tutted and looked down her nose at her. “Jorah is overdue on showing me the first draft of his manuscript. He’s been avoiding my calls and so I’ve come to get it from the horses mouth, so to speak.”

It made no sense. Jorah had told her that he was meeting his agent in town. Why would she be standing on his doorstep expecting to see him?

She had to stop herself from blurting out the truth - that Jorah had lied to her regarding his whereabouts. No doubt this Olenna Tyrell would take it as some sort of unspoken victory if she admitted the truth.

“He’s not here right now. I can give him a message if you like?”

The other woman huffed haughtily. “No need for you to get involved, child. I’ll speak to the organ grinder, not his pretty little monkey.”

Daenerys slammed the door shut. Seconds later she burst into tears.

——————————

Her tears had dried and turned into a seething anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface for the following hour. She heard the front door open and saw Jorah standing with a box and a handful of balloons.

“Sorry, the meeting went on longer than I expected and I….uh…I had to go and pick these up.”

He kissed the side of her head and placed the boxed birthday cake on the coffee table. He frowned as he passed her the balloons, noticing that something was wrong.

“Everything ok?” He asked, sitting next to her on the couch.

She wanted to yell at him, to demand why he’d been lying to her. She’d spent the last hour going over and over in her mind why he would do such a thing. Stamping down on her anger, she gave him her best attempt at a smile.

“The project I’m working on is frustrating me. The client doesn’t know what he wants but he certainly knows what he doesn’t want.”

She felt herself being pulled into his warm embrace. “It’ll get better,” he reassured her. “In fact, we have a table booked at Myr’s in an hour, if you’re up to it?”

He looked at her with those achingly blue eyes of his. She reminded herself that this man had never done her wrong before. He had been the sweetest, most thoughtful man she’d ever met. There would be no way that he would ever do anything to hurt her.

————————

She had tried her best to keep her emotions under control during dinner, but Daenerys found herself unable to engage in any meaningful conversation with Jorah throughout the meal. Her responses to his questions had been short and to the point and she knew that he’d picked up on her clipped tone.

“Are you sure everything is ok?” He’d asked her as they took a cab back to the apartment. “You’ve been quiet this evening.”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” she said, trying to deflect his line of questioning.

She felt him take hold off her hand and give it a squeeze. “You can tell me anything, Daenerys.”

How rich that sounded coming from the man who had been acting suspiciously for what seemed like weeks now.

“I’m just tired.”

She felt his fingers tip-toeing their way up her thigh. “Hmmm. I was hoping that you wouldn’t be too tired to unwrap another present of mine later on.” He cocked his eyebrow suggestively at her and quickly withdrew his hand when she flinched.

Exiting the cab, Daenerys made her way quickly to the main door of the apartment building, not waiting for Jorah to pay the taxi fare and catch her up.

“Daenerys, have I done something wrong?” He asked as he began following her up the two flights of stairs to their apartment.

“Why don’t you tell me?” She spat, turning to face him outside their front door.

He scratched his head. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

She shook her head. “Don’t play games with me. I know you didn’t meet with your agent today. She came here looking for you.”

The blood drained from his face and then it suddenly clicked - why he had been evasive around her, why he kept looking at his phone when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

He was cheating on her with another woman.

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she looked at him and the shocked expression on his face.

“I can explain,” he said before she cut him off with a glare.

“There’s no need to. I understand perfectly what’s going on here. Now that you know it’s all working down there, you’re out there picking up any girl you can find for a quick roll,” she said as she glanced at his trousers before opening the front door.

“Surprise!” 

Their apartment was full of her friends from London, with Missy standing by the front door holding a bunch of balloons.

She realised quickly that she had gotten it horribly wrong and turned to face Jorah, ready to apologise for the vile way she’d spoken to him a moment before, but he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...I'll be in hiding if anyone needs me.... *nothing to see here*


	17. What Hurts The Most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliff-hanger from the last chapter - it was necessary, I promise!
> 
> This chapter will be the last one this side of the weekend as I am off to Edinburgh (yes, really!) and so any comments left from tomorrow onwards I won't be able to reply to until next Tuesday (I will still enjoy reading them while I am away though!)

Daenerys glanced at her phone to check the time. It was past midnight.

Missy and her other girlfriends had left over an hour ago, giving her sympathetic looks as they went. After being so cruel to Jorah, she was in no mood for partying with her friends.

Missy had taken her to one side and told her how Jorah had been secretly planning her party for weeks, knowing how much she missed her friends now that her life was settled in Edinburgh.

It explained the reasons why he’d been so evasive with her as Missy showed her phone and the dozens of text messages and emails that had been sent back and forth between her and Jorah in preparation for tonight, including flight numbers and hotel details. 

He’d sounded so excited in those messages and she had repaid him by wounding him in the worst possible way.

“He told you he was meeting his agent so that he could pick us up from the airport and drop us at our hotel,” Missy had told her. “I told him we could take a cab., but he wouldn’t hear of it. Our flight landed later than expected, but he hung around at the airport waiting for us.”

How could she have gotten it so wrong?

All Jorah had ever done was love her and she’d thrown it back in his face because of her own self-doubt. Not only had he been kind and generous to her, he’d also treated her friends the same way, trying to make their journey to Edinburgh as stress-free as possible.

“I don’t deserve him , Missy,” she’d sobbed to her friend. “I’ve been such a bitch to him.”

“It’s just a misunderstanding. You’ll sort it out.”

“No. What I said to him was so cruel. What if he never forgives me?”

Missy hugged her tightly. “Do you love him?”

She nodded. Of course she loved him.

“Does he love you?”

She nodded again and let out another sob as Missy ran her hands up and down her friend’s back. “Then you’ll work it out, I’m sure.”

She stood up quickly when she heard the front door open. 

Still in the dark, the illumination from the communal hallway cast an eerie silhouette over the man she loved. She could tell from his posture that her words had cut him to the core.

“Where have you been?” She asked as she moved toward him, pausing when she saw him take a step backwards.

“I….uh…. I needed some air.”

“You’ve been gone for hours.”

“I needed some time to think,” he said emotionlessly. It was as if the very life had been sucked from him. He suddenly seemed much older than his years.

She flicked the light on and gasped at how pale and drawn he looked. She reached out a hand but he stiffened at the contact.

“Can we talk? I need to tell you how sorry I am for what I said to you.”

He looked at her then. His eyes seemed deadened, not the pure blue that she was so used to seeing.

“Not tonight,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“Please, Jorah. We need to talk about this. We need to sort this out,” she pleaded.

“Daenerys, if you love me, please let’s not do this tonight. We’ll talk about it in the morning. I don’t want us to say anything we might regret come tomorrow.”

“Will you come to bed?”

He shook his head and let out a deep sigh, turning his back to her.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Jorah, please - “

He didn’t give her any further chance to respond before grabbing the duvet from the spare room and setting it down. 

The way he refused to look at her cut deeply. Unwilling to let him see her cry, she ran to the bedroom and shut the door, sobbing herself to sleep in a bed that seemed far too big without him.

———————————

She’d barely slept and woke up feeling groggy. She’d maybe managed an hour or so of sleep before her dreams were plagued with a surreal image of the both of them in what looked like an ancient temple of some sort in a time far removed from today.

He had tried to plead his innocence with her, telling her that he could explain his actions. She had treated him with anger and hostility, banishing him from ever touching her or speaking her name again.

Hadn’t she done just the same to him last night?

Creeping out into the kitchen, she found Jorah still asleep on the couch, although it appeared that he had been sleeping at an awkward angle, one which he would likely pay for during the day.

After brewing coffee, she took a cup over to him and placed it on the table, watching as the smell of it permeated his senses.

He let out a groan as he pulled himself upright, pushing the duvet away from his body.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Did you get any sleep?” 

She thought it best to start with a neutral question. The talk they would have was likely to be an emotional one.

He shook his head, running a tired hand through his hair. “Not much.”

“I know you’re angry with me,” she began. She stopped when she saw his eyes widen in surprise.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said as he took a sip of his coffee. 

“You wouldn’t come to bed last night.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I needed some space. Some time alone to think.”

“Please, Jorah. Please tell me how to make this right.”

She would beg him if she had to. She couldn’t lose him, not over something so trivial.

Yet her words had been so much more than trivial. She had used his lack of confidence around his sexual functioning to hurt him in the worst way possible.

“Please tell me we can fix this.”

Tears were running down her cheeks. She didn’t care how much of a mess she looked, all she cared about was saving her relationship with the man who had never once done her wrong.

“I can’t lose you, Jorah.”

He looked at her with both sadness and sincerity in his eyes. “I will never abandon you, Daenerys.”

“Then tell me what to do. Tell me what to do to make this right between us.”

He took a deep breath. “What you said,” he paused to clear his throat as his voice wavered. “It hurt me, Daenerys.”

“I didn’t mean it. I’d take it back in an instant if I could.”

“Sometimes words cut deeper than a blade. I let you in to a place where no one has been for many years and you used it against me.”

She couldn’t deny that every word he spoke was true. She had no defence to hide behind that would ever make her actions justifiable.

“I promised myself after….after my divorce that I wouldn’t let anyone back into my heart. I was doing pretty well at that until I met you.” He gave her a sad smile. “You claimed my heart from the moment I met you.”

And what had she done with it?

She’d ripped it out of his chest, crushing in her hands in a fit of pique before handing it back to him.

“I loved Lynesse. I ruined my relationship with my father, I brought shame to my family for her. I gave her everything I had and when it wasn’t enough, she left me. She was so cruel…she had a way of cutting me to the quick with her words. Nothing I ever did was good enough for her and when I let my guard down, she used it against me. She hurt me because she knew that she could.”

And Daenerys realised that she had done exactly the same thing to him last night.

He looked at her, so defeated. “I can’t do that again. I don’t have it in me to go through that again.”

She moved over to him and wrapped her arms around him, relieved when he didn’t flinch away from her embrace.

“I am so sorry for what I said,” she told him between soft kisses. “So many men have used me and cheated on me. I couldn’t stop myself thinking that you’d done the same.”

“I’m not like those other men, Daenerys. I don’t know how else to prove it to you.”

She held his face in her hands. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m the one that needs to earn your forgiveness. I betrayed your trust.”

He shrugged as much as he could while locked in her arms. “I guess I’ll need to remember that you’re not all that good with surprises. Maybe if I hadn’t kept things a secret, we might not have got to this point.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Don't you dare try to blame yourself for this. I’m the one who messed up.”

He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. “It’s not about blame or about who’s wrong or right. It doesn’t matter anyway, not after everything we’ve been through.”

“I guess this was our first real fight, huh?” Daenerys said, kissing him tenderly on the lips.

“Hmmm. Let’s not make a habit of it, ok?”

Calling it a fight assumed that there was equal blame on both sides. It had been her alone that had caused this. It was for her alone to make it up to him.

There was no way that she would ever let her own self-doubt cause pain to Jorah again for as long as she lived. It had taken last night for her to realise that she would not be able to survive in this world without him. In less than a year, he had become the cornerstone of her life. He was her strength and courage, she would not have made it through the last year without his love and support. She would spend the rest of her life making it up to him if she needed to.


	18. You and I

Daenerys smiled as she shuffled the pieces of card on her desk, satisfied that the last few hours hard work would pay off and gain the desired results.

It had been several days since her birthday and the fallout that had come with it and while Jorah had returned to sleeping in their bed, they had so far not been intimate since her callous words towards him.

Daenerys knew that it was nothing more than she deserved after the way she’d treated him. She knew he wasn’t doing it to punish her, he was doing it because she had carelessly knocked down months of progress with a few careless, spiteful words.

She had known how insecure he’d been about his appearance and she’d attacked him at the first opportunity. It would take time for him to feel sure about himself, but Daenerys hoped that what she had planned would go some way to repairing the damage that she’d caused.

“Jorah?” She called out from her office. “Have you got a minute?”

Her heart leapt as he walked into the room and smiled. “For you, I have several.”

“I want to show you what I’ve been working on.”

He frowned at her. “I’m not much of an artist, I’m not sure how much my opinion will count for.”

It would count for everything, she knew.

“Are you ready?” She asked nervously, gathering the cards in her hands.

He nodded and gave her an encouraging smile.

With a sense of trepidation, she turned over the first card:

**Jorah**

Dropping it to the floor, she turned over the next:

**I know that I hurt you**

Sensing that he wasn’t pulling away, she turned several more cards over one at a time before dropping them each to the floor in turn.

**I’ve been such a bitch**

**But I want you to know**

**That I am sorry**

**So**

**So**

**Sorry**

Daenerys felt tears well in her eyes as she looked at the man she loved.

**I probably haven’t told you enough**

**That**

**To me**

**You’re wonderful**

**And I love you**

**More than I’ve ever loved anyone**

**No one even comes close to you**

**And I know you don’t believe it**

**But you’re perfect **

**Just the way you are**

She could see the Jorah’s bottom lip tremble, she hoped the last couple of cards would help mend the damage she’d inflicted on him.

**And without a doubt**

**You’re the best sex I’ve ever had**

She quickly found herself wrapped in his warm embrace, both of them sobbing as they clung to one another. He gently pulled away to place a tender kiss on her lips, before resting his forehead on hers.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “No one has ever done anything like that for me.”

“I really am sorry, Jorah. I just wanted you to know how much.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except you and I.”

Daenerys found her words cut off as Jorah kissed her soundly. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom.

————————

They’d spent most of the afternoon in bed, making up for lost time and Daenerys relished being held in his strong arms as they lay next to each other.

“We should really be doing some work, you know,” Daenerys said, running a finger up and down his chest.

“Another day isn’t going to matter,” he replied as he kissed her fingers.

“That’s not what your agent said the other day.”

Jorah frowned, realising that he’d forgotten all about Olenna Tyrell turning up on his doorstep several days ago.

“I’m sorry if she was curt with you.”

Daenerys snorted at his choice of words. “Curt is not the word I would use. She was a bitch.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll have words with her.”

Daenerys lifted her head off of his chest. “Not without a flack jacket, you won’t.”

He laughed at that.

“Her bark is worse than her bite.”

Judging by her bark, her bite was likely to be fatal to anyone who crossed her.

“I don’t know how you put up with her.”

“You get used to it. She’s good at her job.”

Daenerys had no trouble believing that. Olenna Tyrell could no doubt reduce anyone to a trembling mess should she put her mind to it.

Daenerys could feel her eyes growing heavy as Jorah lightly ran his fingers up and down her bare arm. Sleep would soon claim her, but she wanted to tell him what had been on her mind all day.

“I got a letter from the hospital this morning.”

She felt him tense as his fingers stopped their travels over her exposed flesh.

“Is everything alright?”

He sounded so uncertain, she was quick to put his mind at ease.

“They’ve given me a date for a consultation for the reconstructive surgery.”

“When?”

“Next Friday. Would you come with me?”

She felt silly for asking, but she couldn’t bear the thought of attending the appointment alone. It would be far too similar to the appointment she’d had to remove her breast in the first place.

He tightened his hold on her. “Of course I will. You don’t ever have to ask.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “It was so scary going through the mastectomy on my own.”

Of course, he knew exactly how it felt, having gone through something similar himself.

“I won’t leave your side, I promise you.”

“I’m not even sure I want to go through with it,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure I can…. Would you still love me if I didn’t have it done?”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. No matter how many times he had reassured her, she found so much of her femininity intrinsically linked to the missing part of her anatomy.

“You already know that I will.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not you that I doubt,” she tried to explain.

“I know. I understand….I’ve been having the same doubts about myself,” he admitted quietly. “They offered me a….uh…replacement for Dan.”

It still made her smile that he’d named his testicles. It seemed like an utterly ridiculous thing to do, but it had been one of the funniest things she’d heard. After so much anxiety and sorrow, it had been a bright spot in a troublingly dark time in their lives and she was glad that they could make light of it.

“They told me the medical term for the surgery,” he began, “to replace it with some sort of a prosthetic, they said.” She heard him let out a chuckle. “A prosthes-tical, I suppose.”

It was one of the things she loved the most about him - his ability to make her laugh, even in the most serious circumstances. His humour was subtle and dry and never failed to make her smile.

“Would you think any less of me if I didn’t have it done?”

Her heart ached at how unsure he sounded.

“Losing it was hard enough, I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to go through another surgery like that again.”

She kissed him soundly.

“It really doesn’t matter to me,” she told him, “And if it helps, I have no complaints about your current equipment.” She ran her finger up and down his chest suggestively. “But I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked, more to himself than to her.

“Are you kidding me? I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” Daenerys shot back quickly. “Promise me we’ll always be this way,” she said, her bottom lip trembling. “Just you and me against the world.”

He answered her with a kiss. “I will never leave you. I will never abandon you. I swear.”

“I can’t do this without you,” she said, needing him to know how much he meant to her.

“I used to think that I could get by on my own, but you’ve turned my world completely upside-down, Daenerys. I’ve realised that no one can survive in this world alone and more than that, I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to be anywhere that you’re not.”

And Daenerys knew, without a doubt, that she felt the same. The thought of not being with him, of not sharing the rest of her life with him, was absolutely unthinkable. She knew instinctively that Jorah was the man that she wanted to spend the rest of her days with.

She felt infinitely lighter now that they were back on track after a tumultuous few days and Daenerys could feel her eyes grow heavy once more. The energy they’d expended during the afternoon beginning to catch up with them both.

Sleep had almost claimed her when Jorah murmured sleepily in her ear. “I’m still not wearing an England jersey next week though.”

She’d teased him since Christmas that she would make him cheer for the ‘old enemy’ when they went to the rugby match she’d given him tickets for and he had flatly, but lovingly, refused her at every turn.

“I thought you loved me,” she pouted.

“I would rather have my toenails ripped out and fed to me than wear that bloody monstrosity.”

“You’re mean,” she teased.

“No,” he said patiently, “I’m a proud Scotsman. There’s difference.” He kissed the top of her head and shifted slightly in the bed.

“It’s a good job I love you then.”

“Aye, it’s a good job I love you, too. If I’m willing to look past your complete lack of taste in rugby teams.”

“You’re just sore because you know England are gonna beat you.”

He chuckled. “Are you sure about that?”

She propped herself up on her elbows, all thoughts of sleep temporarily forgotten. “Uh huh.”

He gave her a wolfish smile when as he watched her hand snake under the bedsheets. “Are you trying to persuade me?”

She looked at him lasciviously. “Is it working?”

He answered her by pouncing on her hungrily. Whatever else they’d been intending to say was suddenly lost in a flurry of hands and lips as they once again fell into another passionate embrace.


	19. Have I Told You Lately?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jorah tries to teach Daenerys the rules of rugby...

Daenerys shrugged on the England rugby top, turning and smiling as she saw Jorah pull on his Scotland one on.

“You ready?” He asked excitedly.

She knew he’d been waiting months for the match to arrive and had found his boyish excitement endearing.

She returned his smile with one of her own, confident in the knowledge that she was now on the waiting list for reconstructive breast surgery.

The meeting with specialist had gone well and Daenerys had decided, with Jorah’s support, that she wanted to go through with the operation.

The specialist had warned them that there was already a three month waiting list and that any surgery would probably not be for some weeks yet.

On the way home from the appointment, Jorah had even offered her the option of getting the procedure done privately.

She’d gently declined, although he’d insisted that he would have spent every last penny he had to make her happy and for her to feel confident about her body once more.

“You can’t go around buying boobs for people, Jorah,” she’d said teasingly.

He chuckled. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re the only woman I would by boobs for.”

No, she was content to be placed on the waiting list, knowing that it would give her more time to come to terms with going through the procedure and the bad memories it was likely to bring back.

——————

They’d arrived at Murrayfield two hours before the match and it left enough time for them to make a detour to a pub that was an old favourite of Jorah’s.

Daenerys looked distinctly unimpressed as she took in its decor.

“When was the last time this place was decorated…1973?”

“It has atmosphere,” Jorah replied patiently.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Daenerys smiled as a couple of people grinned and patted Jorah on the back with him responding with an easy smile, making it clear that this was an environment he felt comfortable in. It occurred to her that she was the only person in pub wearing an England top and she’d already caught a couple of men giving her a strange look.

She felt Jorah kiss her on the side of her head, his strong arm wrapped protectively around her. He would protect her from anyone who tried to give her trouble. “What would you like to drink?”

Daenerys frowned as she looked around the busy bar, it was filled mostly with men who were drinking pints of beer.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she said, smiling at him.

He grinned as he returned to her side with two pints of an amber-looking liquid, his eyes widening when as he watched her take a long draught.

“Just when I think I’ve got a handle on you, Daenerys Targaryen, you confound me yet again.”

He looked at her lovingly as they made their way over to a table.

“Did you think I was a white wine spritzer kind of girl?” She teased. “You should know by now that I’m not like other girls.”

He took a sip of his own beer. “So I’m beginning to find out.”

“Captain Mormont!”

Jorah turned round at the familiar gravelly voice.

“Dondarrion?”

“Aye.”

Jorah stood and shook the other man’s hand.

“Daenerys, this is Lieutenant Beric Dondarrion,” he said.

The other man grinned as he pulled him into an embrace. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

Daenerys couldn’t help but look at the patch covering the man’s right eye and the scarring that marred his face. She looked away quickly when she realised that he’d caught her staring.

“Got too close to an IED,” he said, a wry grin on his face as he sat down at their table.

“You were in the Army with Jorah?” She asked. Any information she’d gotten from Jorah had only been because she’d pushed him to open up and talk to her.

“Aye,” Dondarrion replied. “We did several tours together. The Captain here was my commanding officer for a time.”

“Really?” Daenerys smiled, leaning forward. “Tell me more.”

Dondarrion cast a look at Jorah. “You mean he hasn’t regaled you with stories of his bravery and valour?”

Daenerys shook her head.

Dondarrion gave his friend a sympathetic look. “That’s what made him such a good leader. He never did have his head up his own arse. Never saw himself as better than the men under his command. The other COs hated him though.”

“Why?”

Dondarrion let out a derisive snort. “Because he showed them up for the lazy, useless shits that they were. Most of them were well-to-do little bastards who were born with sliver spoons in their mouths or had their daddy to thank for their position. Mormont here might be from that same good stock, but he’d be up early, shovelling shit from the latrines with the rest of his men, running circuits round the base…always doing something.”

Daenerys caught the uncomfortable squirming of her lover as he took another sip of his beer.

“The other officers on base couldn’t find their arseholes with all ten digits and two palms,” Dondarrion finished as he took a final gulp of his beer. “Useless shits.”

“What brings you back here?” Jorah asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

Dondarrion let out a dramatic sigh. “What always brings me back.”

“Thoros,” the two men said in unison.

Although not related by blood, Thoros and Dondarrion were, for all intents and purposes, brothers. Thoros’ drinking problems were always the reason that Dondarrion would drop whatever he was doing and return to Edinburgh help the man get clean and sober.

“How many times has it been?” Jorah asked.

Dondarrion shook his head. “Too many. I am hoping that this time is the last.” He then turned his attention to Daenerys. “Thoros told me you were beautiful, but his description does not do you justice. You are quite the vision to behold.”

Daenerys laughed when she caught the scowl marring Jorah’s features.

“You’ll come to realise that men in the Army are the most incorrigible gossips,” Dondarrion told her.

Jorah ran a hand over his face, smoothing his beard down. “Why do you think I left?”

“Are you still serving?” Daenerys asked.

Dondarrion shook his head. “Not since I lost my eye,” he said bitterly, before shaking it off. “We give our lives and bodies to protect the innocent and when we’re no longer usable… they leave us to fend for ourselves. “ Dondarrion glanced at Jorah, “The Captain here was smart enough to put his talents to good use. Some of us are not so lucky.”

Jorah and Dondarrion were two men who had put their lives on the line to serve their country and had been left with both mental and physical scars to prove it.

“Are you here for the match?” Dondarrion asked.

“Aye,” Jorah smiled triumphantly at his old Army colleague. “We have tickets.”

Dondarrion choked on a mouthful of beer. “Who did you mug to get those?”

Jorah was aware of just how much effort Daenerys had gone to get tickets for the match. In the many years that he’d lived in Edinburgh, he’d never once been able to get to see the action live.

Jorah turned his gaze to the woman he loved, looking at her adoringly. “They were a gift from Daenerys for Christmas.”

Dondarrion looked impressed. “You truly are a wonder. The Captain here should know how lucky he is to have someone like you.”

Jorah huffed. “Trust me, I know.” He gave Daenerys a shy smile.

Dondarrion drained this last of his beer, standing and clapping Jorah on the shoulder. “I’ll be expecting the wedding invite in the post soon then, Captain.”

—————————

Dondarrion’s words had been ringing in Jorah’s ears as he and Daenerys walked arm in arm to the stadium.

He’d been considering proposing to her for several weeks now and even though he was under no doubt that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, his own self-doubts had held him back from actually going through with it and asking for her hand in marriage.

He was a middle-aged man, widowed once and divorced another. Daenerys was young and vibrant and now that her cancer battle was behind her, she had the whole of her life to find the right man and be happy. She deserved more than he could offer her.

He knew it was his own demons talking when he told himself that he was too old, that he wasn’t handsome or successful enough, that he wasn’t good enough for her. Hadn’t she already told him that she didn’t want to live without him, that she would never love someone the way she loved him?

“You’re quiet.”

Daenerys’ voice broke him from his thoughts. She looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers, the love she held for him shining through. He kissed the side of her head as they made their way to their seats.

“I’m nervous,” he said before he could stop himself. “For the match,” he added quickly, hoping that she hadn’t picked up on what he’d truly meant. If he was going to propose to her, he was going to do it in the most romantic and memorable way he could think of, not at a rugby match surrounded by 67,000 other people.

————————

It had made Daenerys laugh as Jorah sat with his arms crossed during the English national anthem, although he did smile proudly at the way she sang at the top of her lungs, ignoring the tutting and pointing of the people sitting around them in the mainly Scottish section.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as Jorah stood for the Scottish anthem as he sung proudly, thumping his chest as he sat back down at the end of it.

Twenty minutes into the game, Daenerys started to have questions as to what the hell was going on, especially when Jorah cheered as the ball was kicked out of play.

“I don’t get it,” Daenerys said, leaning into Jorah’s side so she could shout into his ear to be heard. “Why don’t they just throw the ball forward to the next person. What’s the point of throwing it behind to run forwards bit and then throw it backwards again?”

“Because that’s how the game works,” Jorah replied patiently as they watched the two teams stand in a line next to each other.

“And what’s with the lifting the guy up. Why don’t they just throw it back on the pitch like they do in football?”

Jorah had started to answer her when he suddenly jumped to his feet, screaming and shouting as the players in blue surged forward, his fists pumping as the majority of the crowd cheered triumphantly.

“You scored?” She asked, smiling at his boyish excitement.

“Aye, we did!”

Although she wasn’t sure that she understood half of it, Daenerys had enjoyed watching Jorah being so animated each time his team scored points or stopped and England surge with a well-timed tackle. Jorah was usually so calm and in control of his emotions, seeing his exuberance spilling out made him even more adorable in her eyes.

By the time the game had ended, both of them were exhausted and Jorah’s voice was nothing more than a gravelly whisper.

“Thank you,” he said as he held her close. “That was amazing.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really do much.”

“Are you kidding me? You have no idea how special you are, do you?”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve done so much for me.”

She frowned as he shook his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

She looked at him, nonplussed. 

“You don’t owe me anything, Daenerys. Just being with you is more than I deserve, more than I could ever ask for. I love you.”

And later that night, perhaps buoyed by Scotland’s triumph in the match, Jorah showed her just how much he loved her, over and over again.


	20. Who I Am With You

“We’re here,” Jorah smiled as he pulled the car up outside a beautiful cottage.

It had taken just over two hours to get there and Jorah had pointed out various landmarks as they drove, explaining more about the history of the country of his birth.

Daenerys got out of the car and stretched. Eying her lover suspiciously.

“When you said that we were in the middle of nowhere, you really weren’t kidding, were you?”

Grabbing their bags from the car, Jorah opened the front door of the small cottage and motioned for her to enter.

“At least we’ll be guaranteed some peace and quiet here,” he grumbled, placing the bags down and flicking the lights on, relieved to see that the bulbs still worked.

Dondarrion had given him the keys to his family’s old cottage yesterday and told Jorah that the fridge would be fully stocked with everything they would need. But Dondarrion had that glint in his eye that always seemed to spell trouble. It was a relief to find that his old Army buddy had been true to his word, so far, at least.

With Daenerys’ freelance work taking off and Jorah's book deadline fast approaching, it had seemed as if they’d hardly had a free moment to themselves for weeks. It had not been for want of trying though. Each time they’d thought they had a few moments alone, the doorbell or one of their phones would chirp with some sort of urgent request that couldn’t be postponed.

Daenerys ran a finger over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “So, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” she said, smiling wickedly and licking her lips.

“Aye,” Jorah grinned, wrapping his arms around her.

She ran a finger up his chest, marvelling in the feel of the fleece sweater he wore.

“So now would be a good time to tell you I’m a serial killer, right?”

He laughed and kissed the end of her nose. “I can’t think of a better way to go than to be taken out by you. I think I’d die a very happy man.”

He followed up the kiss on her nose with one on her mouth and things soon began to get heated between them. It took all of Jorah’s willpower to pull away from her, especially when she looked at him, her eyes hooded with desire.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later, I promise you,” he said as he guided out of the front door. “Can I show you something?”

Although she would much rather have spent the morning getting reacquainted with Jorah’s body, Daenerys couldn’t deny her lover anything as she saw his boyish grin. He seemed to spend so much time with the weight of the world on his shoulders that she wanted to make the most of the time when he seemed relatively carefree. 

She followed him for what seemed like miles until they had finally reached the top of a hill. It was late October and the weather was grim and cold. Even wrapped up in several layers of clothes, just the warmth of Jorah’s smile was enough to heat even the coldest day as he beckoned her forward.

Daenerys felt her breath leave her in a rush as she took in the view of the loch below. It was simply stunning. From the lush green hills, to the clear blue water, everything about it was breathtaking. Having spent most of her life in London, she’d never really appreciated the true beauty of the countryside.

“Daenerys,” Jorah said as he took her by the hands smiled shyly at her. “Do you know what today is?”

She screwed her face up in mock concentration. “Thursday?”

He rolled his eyes at her attempt at humour. “Do you remember what you were doing on this day, exactly twelve months ago?”

She was never likely to forget. It had been the day her life had changed forever, and for the better. It had been the day that they’d met in that hospital room.

Jorah cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice level as he spoke. “I had no idea that when I walked into that room that I would find the most wonderful, caring, funny, intoxicating woman sitting in my seat.”

She smiled at the memory.

“I’d pretty much given up on life before then,” he admitted, his eyes dropping to the ground. “Part of me wanted the chemo not to work so that I didn’t have to carry on feeling so lonely…like I had no one on my side.

And then you came along, Daenerys. You came along and you turned my world upside down and inside out. You gave me a reason to carry on….you gave me a reason to keep fighting....you gave me a reason to live.”

Daenerys felt tears welling in her eyes as she watched the man she adored trying to keep control of his emotions.

It’s now or never, old man, Jorah told himself as he fingered the small box in his pocket. Everything was perfect, from the view to the words he’d wanted to say to her. Now was the moment to finally ask…

“Oh fucking hell, give me a break!” Jorah shouted as the heavens opened and the two of them were drenched in a heavy downpour of rain.

He cursed the goddamn rain all the way back to the cottage as they ran to get out of the deluge, but by the time they’d made it back, both of them were soaked to the bone and shivering from the cold.

“You take the shower first,” Jorah said, shrugging his coat off and hanging it on the hook by the door. He frowned as his feet squelched when he removed his boots.

“No way,” Daenerys said as she took him by the hand and led him toward the bathroom. “You’ll end up with the flu….again. Besides, I’m sure there’s enough room for both of us…”

Afterwards, Jorah had to admit that there was something quite fun about sharing the small shower cubicle with Daenerys. After divesting each other of their clothes, Jorah had kissed her soundly, making his way down her body until he reached the apex of her legs.

“Jorah,” she’d breathed as he once again brought her to her peak with his expert mouth and fingers. She hadn’t needed to ask him twice to take her fully, right there in the shower. 

—————————

Daenerys had no idea how long they’d spent in there, but the water had run cold by the time they’d towelled off and dressed in dry clothes.

“Well, that was fun,” Daenerys smirked as she sat at the kitchen table, watching Jorah take various items out of the refrigerator.

He frowned. “It wasn’t quite what I had planned. Bloody useless weather.”

“Look on the bright side, at least it means we have an excuse to sit in front of the fire all night long.”

He gave her an approving grin. “Aye, we do.”

“Can I help?” Daenerys asked, making her way over to Jorah’s side.

He shook his head. “This is meant to be a treat for you.”

She pouted at him. “What about you, who’s treating you?”

He smiled at her, kissing her on the forehead. “You already have.”

“Please,” she insisted. “I wanna help. I think cooking together could be quite fun.”

He didn’t look overly keen on the idea, but gave in as he inevitably always did with her.

He passed her a packet of chicken and some mixed herbs.

“Can you season that for me?” He asked as he began chopping vegetables, keeping one eye on what she was doing.

His eyes widened as he saw her being deliberately provocative, running her hands sensually over the chicken breasts. “Like this?” She said, her tongue darting across her lower lip.

Putting the knife down for fear of cutting himself, Jorah watched transfixed as Daenerys moved her hands back and forth over the chicken. He swallowed deeply, trying to resist the urge to pull her into his arms and take her right there on the kitchen table.

He moved the chicken away from her, placing it in the oven, ignoring her petulant sigh for taking away her toy.

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist as he returned to chopping the vegetables.

“My,” she breathed, “that’s a big carrot you have there.”

He felt his grip tighten on the knife immediately. “Daenerys,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Uh huh?” She replied, seductively.

He placed the knife down and turned to face her, leaving her under no illusions as to what effect she was having on him. His arousal was already painfully evident.

“Dinner’s going to get burned if you keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” She asked innocently.

“You know what you’re doing…”

She ran a hand up and down his chest, he finger peeking into the gap in his shirt where he’d left the top three buttons undone.

“I’m helping.”

He sighed. “I think you and I have a totally different understanding of the word ‘helping’.”

Her hand travelled under his shirt and across his collarbone, ghosting across the scar there. 

“How about we skip dinner and go straight to dessert?”

He broke away from her reluctantly. “As appealing a proposition as that sounds right now. Let’s have dinner first, ok?”

“Do we have to?”

He smiled at her, knowing that she was deliberately sounding like a spoilt child.

“Yes, it’s important to me.”

“Do I get to kiss the cook afterwards?”

He grinned at her wolfishly. “Of course. How else were you expecting to pay for this meal that I am so lovingly preparing for you?”

————————————

“Wow, that was amazing,” Daenerys said, placing her dessert spoon down. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”

Jorah gave her a wry smile. “Thoros, mainly. Army food isn’t exactly known for its flavour. It’s not like you have a lot of options for cooking either. It’s mainly just re-heated beans and the like. It gets a bit boring after a while and Thoros had a way of making it more…interesting.”

Daenerys smiled at the image of Jorah being taught to cook by the inebriated chef she’d met on their first dinner date.

“What was it like out there. Afghanistan, I mean?”

Jorah shifted awkwardly in his chair. “Hot. Humid. Frightening.”

Sensing that he wanted to say something else, Daenerys waited for him to continue.

He let out a deep sigh, running his hand across his bearded chin. “Fighting a war is much simpler when you know who your enemy is. The Taliban…they weren’t just using men as soldiers, they were using women and children.”

The thought horrified Daenerys. She couldn’t imagine half of the things he had seen. It was no wonder Thoros had turned to drink.

“We had no idea who was the enemy and who was just an innocent bystander. A lot of people lost their lives on both sides. I never took pleasure in taking anyone’s life, but it was my job. Didn’t make it any easier to reconcile though.”

Jorah shook the memory away and reached out his hand to her. He hadn't planned on the maudlin turn the conversation had taken.

“Seeing as it’s our anniversary, I’ve got you a little gift.”

Daenerys matched his smile with one of her own. “Me too.”

“Ah, who should go first?” He smiled.

“How about we both hold out our hand, close our eyes and hand them over together?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he chuckled.

“Ok. On three. One, two, three.”

They both opened their eyes at the same time, speaking simultaneously.

“Will you marry me?”

“Oh my god,” Daenerys gasped as they both opened the small jewellery boxes they’d given each other. “I had no idea that you were going to do that!”

“Me neither,” Jorah said, shaking his head.

“So is it a yes?” Daenerys asked nervously.

He answered her with a kiss.

—————————

Daenerys admired her engagement ring as they made themselves comfortable on the floor by the open fire, each sipping on a glass of red wine.

“Who would have thought this is where we’d be this time last year?” She said, glancing at the solid silver band adorning Jorah’s finger.

She felt his rumble of laughter as her head lay on his chest.

“Hmmm. What a twelve months.”

“Would you have changed any of it?”

He paused momentarily before answering. “No, I don’t think I would. I mean, everything that’s happened has brought us here and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Daenerys took another sip of her wine as the fire crackled noisily in the hearth. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could just stay here forever?”

“In this cottage, you mean?”

She nodded her head. “I can imagine you as some sort of farm man, tending to his flock of sheep.”

He laughed. “Is that so?”

She turned to look at him, placing her wine glass down. “In fact, I have this fantasy about a guy who lives in a remote little cottage, farming his land and coming home each evening to his loving wife.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, amused at where she was going with this.

“And what does this farm man do exactly?”

She licked her lips seductively. “Well, this one time in lambing season…he saw that one of the smaller ones wasn’t feeding from its mother. So he fed it himself from a bottle…this big, strong, handsome man who took his shirt off and wrapped it round the little lamb and sat with him in his lap. He looked so….sexy.”

Intrigued, Jorah played along with her.

“And was his wife impressed?”

Daenerys answered him by fingering the gap in his shirt. “She thought it was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. In fact, it made her quite hot under the collar when he got home that night,” she continued as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“Well, that just won’t do,” he said as he helped her remove the shirt entirely. “What’s a man to do about that then?”

“She’d missed her husband’s large hands,” Daenerys continued as she linked her fingers with his. “She was jealous that he’d spent all day using them on the land.”

He hissed in pleasure as her lips travelled across his bare chest.

“She needed him to know that it wasn’t just his fields he should be ploughing,” she continued as she unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers down, his boxers following shortly after.

He bit down on his lower lip as Daenerys took him in her mouth.

“Ahhh,” he ground out as her lips and tongue made sensual movements across his erect manhood.

She continued her torturous assault on his body as he balled his hands into fists, trying his best not to explode right there and then. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, Daenerys stopped her ministrations before settling herself over him, sinking down slowly onto him as their bodies became one. He could do nothing but watch her as she controlled the pace of their movements and the way she effortlessly moved above him sent him crazy with desire.

Unable to take it any more, he sat up with her in his lap, adjusting the angle and kissing every inch of her chest and face he could find. They moved as one, over and over again until they both reached their peak in unison.

Both of them were gasping for breath as Jorah held on to her, resting his sweaty head against her shoulder.

“You know,” Jorah said as he began to get his breath back, “I’m liking the sound of this farm life more and more by the minute.”


	21. The First Cut Is the Deepest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Salzrand who wanted to know more about what Lynesse did to leave such scars on Jorah.
> 
> I haven't exactly held back, so I apologise if there are any Lynesse fans out there as she has not come across at all well in this chapter....

While the break in the countryside had been much needed and a welcome change of pace for them, life inevitably brought Daenerys and Jorah back down to earth with a bump when they'd returned.

There were deadlines to meet, projects to finish, and a wedding to plan.

They’d decided to have a Spring wedding with the hope that the weather would be decent while also giving their friends and family enough notice to be able to attend.

While Daenerys had plenty of friends that she wanted to invite, her heart broke when Jorah’s small list of Army colleagues was dwarfed by the amount of people she’d wanted to include.

Daenerys had no surviving family to speak of, but her mind kept returning to what Mary had said all those months ago at the hospital. It was clear that Jorah’s father was still alive and yet he hadn’t once suggested inviting him to their wedding.

She decided to raise the subject with him, waiting until they’d finished dinner and had a chance to unwind from the working day.

She wasn’t quite sure how to start the conversation, so she resorted to asking Jorah point-blank why he hadn’t invited his father.

“It’s a long and complicated story,” he said, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

“He’s still alive?” Daenerys asked.

Jorah nodded. “As far as I know.”

“Don’t you think he’d want to see his son get married?”

He shook his head, a look of shame on his features. “He’s been there twice before. He didn’t exactly condone my last marriage.”

“Is that why you stopped talking?”

“I told you, Daenerys. It’s a long story,” he said, trying to avoid answering her questions.

She made herself comfortable, tucking a leg underneath her as she sat on the kitchen chair. “Well, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Her words were meant to be teasing, but she saw his pained expression before he quickly hid it.

“Please, Jorah. I don’t understand why you don’t want your only living relative at what should be the happiest day of your life.”

He twirled the stem of his wine glass in an effort to distract himself. “My father made it very clear that he never wanted to speak to me again. He told me that I was no son of his….that I’d brought shame to our family.”

Having known Jorah for over a year, Daenerys was under no doubts that he was a good man. There was no way that he could ever have done something so bad that his own father would disown him for it.

“It can’t have been that bad,” she prodded.

His head shot up. “Oh trust me. It was.”

It felt like a loaded question, yet she needed to ask. “What exactly did you do?”

Jorah stood up and began pacing the room. “Please, can we not talk about this?”

She would not be deterred. She needed to know what damage Jorah had done to his relationship with his father so that she could figure out a way to start repairing it.

“I think I deserve to know if the man I’m marrying has any skeletons in his closet.”

He looked so sad, his head thrown back as he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to end up hating me.”

She got up and made her way over to him. “That is never going to happen. Unless you’re gonna tell me that you like drowning puppies or something,” she said, attempting to make him smile. “Nothing you say is ever going to change how I feel about you.”

He looked at her intently, the moment stretching between them.

“I wasn’t in a good place for a long time after I was discharged from the Army. My arm was still healing and I’d hidden myself away in my apartment, drinking too much and sitting in the dark feeling sorry for myself.

Beric and Thoros were back in the UK on leave and dragged me out one night. A beautiful woman came up and started talking to me. I don’t even know what I was thinking back then, but she made me feel good about myself.”

“Was it Lynesse?” Daenerys asked.

He nodded. “She said all the right things…told me what I wanted to hear. The cracks only started to show after we got married.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I should have listened to what people were telling me…that she was no good for me, but I didn’t want to hear it.

She said she wanted to move down to London to be closer to her friends and so I packed up my life and we rented a small place in the city. Soon she began to complain that the place wasn’t big enough, that we didn’t live in the right postcode, that we didn’t have the right furniture.

She knew I had some money from the first few books selling…she told me that if I loved her, that I would spend every penny I had making her happy.”

Daenerys could feel her anger rising at how callous his ex-wife had been.

“We’d have arguments,” he continued. “It would be then she would tell me that I was lucky she stuck with me - a maimed, messed-up war veteran.”

“She said that?!”

Jorah felt the shame wash over him once more. “She’d scream and shout at me…storming off and not coming back until the next morning. Then she’d be remorseful, telling me that she didn’t mean it…that she loved me the way I was.

As long as I was buying her things, we’d be ok for a while…but the moment I refused to do something or buy something for her, she’d go on the attack.”

He didn’t want to admit to the whole truth, yet he knew Daenerys deserved to know who she was marrying.

“A few years into our marriage, things started to get really bad. She’d pour us both a drink and after one or two, she’d start making sly digs about how I wasn’t good enough, how I wasn’t rich enough….

I’d wake up in our bed or on the sofa the next morning to find our home trashed. She’d show me bruises or marks and said that I’d lost it in a drunken rage and that I’d hit her.”

Daenerys refused to believe for a second that Jorah was capable of such a thing.

“Every time that happened….I honestly couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. I’d just assumed that I was so drunk that whatever she told me was the truth.”

Jorah refused to look at her, he didn’t want to see the look of disgust in her eyes.

“I’d buy her more things to make up for it and things would be ok for a while. But then she started borrowing money from people.”

“People?” Daenerys asked.

“Loan sharks.”

She felt her mouth go dry at his admission.

“I’d spent every penny I had on her, I even started asking Olenna for advances of sales for the next book, but that soon ran dry as well. Olenna told me that my new book would need something that would really take readers by surprise. She said it needed the ‘wow’ factor.”

Jorah paused, reaching for a glass tumbler and filling it with scotch before downing it quickly. He had never even touched the bottle in his kitchen the entire time she’d known him.

“I was getting hassle from the loan sharks for the money she took out in my name. They were threatening me with all sorts of things…threatening to take out on Lynesse instead. I was desperate and I didn’t know what else to do, so I gave Olenna the manuscript for A Song of Ice and Fire. You remember the main story?”

Daenerys nodded her head. The tale of the young boy who’d grown up thinking he was a bastard, only to be told of his true parentage.

“That was the story from my mother’s side of the family. Her father, my grandfather, had gone off to work overseas to bring money in for his family… work was scarce back then in Scotland. He’d been gone for years and he only returned when he learned that his sister had died in England. My grandfather came back with a baby in his arms and told my grandmother that it was his, but he would never tell her who the mother was. He took the secret to his grave and it wasn’t until years later that they learned the truth…that it was his sister’s son and that she’d died in childbirth.”

He poured himself another drink. “I knew my father would see it as a betrayal of our family and everything our name stood for. He’d see it as me making money off of a sordid family secret. But I was out of options and I needed the money…so I told Olenna to take the manuscript to print.”

“Is that when your father found out?”

He shook his head and laughed bitterly. “Not straight away….I was hoping that it would buy me enough time to get the loan sharks off my back and I could pull the manuscript before it ever went to print.”

Daenerys had read the book several times. It obviously hadn’t happened, the book had gone on to sell millions worldwide.

“I was in the apartment alone one night when the loan sharks paid me a visit. They told me that I owed them twice as much as I had before and that the interest was going up by the day. I told them that I didn’t have the money, but that I could get it to them if they’d just give me a bit more time.

There were five of them, the loan shark and his four men and he told me that he had a reputation to uphold…that he couldn’t be seen to let people get away with not paying on time. I knew what was coming…. I didn’t even try to fight it.”

She didn’t want to ask, but she knew that she had to. “What happened?”

“Maybe if it had just been one or two of them, I could have put up a fight….but I thought a beating was what I deserved for laying my hands on Lynesse. Maybe in some messed up way I thought it might make me feel less guilty about hurting her.”

“So you let them hit you?”

He looked so broken, standing in the corner of the room, she wanted to reach out and touch him.

“They were on me before I had time to react and once the loan shark had got a few hits in, he let his boys do the rest. I guess I must have been knocked out at some point….next thing I remember is waking up in the ICU a week later.”

She gasped in shock. This hadn’t just been a few well-placed punches and kicks. They had beaten him savagely and relentlessly.

“They told me later that they found traces of barbiturates in my system. I didn’t connect the dots for a while, but Lynesse had been slipping me something in my drink…making me think I’d done things to her.” He let out a bitter laugh. “They told me I would’ve barely been able to scratch my own nose, let alone raise a fist against anyone with the amount she’d been giving me.”

“But you reported her to the police, right?”

He shook his head. “They couldn’t find her and it turns out she’d run off and left the country with some rich German baron or something. They kept me in the hospital for another ten days and when I got back to the apartment…the whole place had been cleaned out. Everything worth taking was gone…. I figured the loan sharks took it.

I’d assumed that my account was settled so I called Olenna to tell her to hold off on the manuscript. She told me that it was already too late and that my father had heard about its contents and that there was nothing either she or I could do to stop it going to print. And the rest….well, you know the rest.”

He stood before her, his head hung low and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked utterly broken at his admission.

He hadn’t expected her to take his face in her hands. “Oh, Jorah.”

He could feel his bottom lip tremble as he closed his eyes. “Please don’t say that you hate me.”

“The only person I hate is the fucking bitch who did this to you.” 

He hadn’t expected her to say that.

“But, the things I did.”

She kissed him tenderly on the lips, trying to infuse him with the strength and support that he so clearly needed from her.

“She was gaslighting you, Jorah. Don’t you see that?”

“It still doesn’t excuse what I did. I sold my family’s secret to make money.”

Daenerys folded her arms across her chest. “Then your father is a jerk.”

The comment caught him off guard.

“If he had any idea what was happening….what she was doing to you,” Daenerys continued.

“He would have said I’d brought it on myself,” Jorah huffed, humourlessly.

“Have you tried contacting him?”

Jorah shook his head. “It’s a waste of time. He doesn’t want to know me and more’s the point, I don’t want to know him.”

“Maybe this would be a good time to reach out to him.”

“No,” Jorah shot back quickly. “There’s too much water under the bridge.”

“Please, Jorah. Just think about it.”

He cut her off. “I said no.” He hadn’t meant to be so curt with her and immediately regretted it. “Please,” he said softly, “I can’t talk about his any more tonight.”

He’d bared his soul to her this evening in the very real fear that she would hate him for it. She could see how much it had taken out of him, so she chose not to push the subject any further and led him to the couch instead, content to be held in his strong arms, but she promised herself that she would make Jorah see that what had happened had been completely out of his control. He already carried around far too much guilt, most of it misplaced, and she was damned if she was going to watch him torture himself further because of his ex-wife’s cruel and calculated actions.


	22. I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday

It had been several weeks since Jorah’s confession and Daenerys knew that revisiting those horrific memories had affected him more than he wanted to let on.

His dreams had been plagued by images of what had happened during his marriage to his ex-wife and several times she’d had to shake him awake. It was then that she would take him in her arms and hold him as he tried to get his emotions back under control.

The interrupted sleep had taken its toll on him and it didn’t seem to matter what she said, he’d insisted he was fine, preferring to lose himself in writing rather than facing the demons of his past.

Daenerys hoped that Christmas would provide a welcome distraction for him, just as it had last year. It had been adorable to watch Jorah get excited about Christmas Day and the gleeful look on his face as he passed her presents to open.

Unlike last year, Daenerys found herself waking before Jorah. He was still fast asleep and she didn’t have the heart to wake him, especially when his sleep had been so broken recently. She decided that she would do as he’d done and make coffee for them both. After all of the times Jorah had brought her coffee in bed, she knew that it was about time that she returned the favour.

She decided to wake him up with a kiss. It had the desired effect as he opened his eyes and then his arms to her, bringing her closer to him.

“Good morning,” he said as he sat up in bed.

“I brought you coffee,” she said, handing him the cup. “I wanted to see if Santa had been.”

Her words made him smile. It had been exactly the same thing he’d said to her last year.

He took a sip of the coffee, feeling the hot liquid warm his stomach. “And has he been?”

She smiled at him. “Uh, huh.” She stood up, making her way to the door. “You have ten minutes to get yourself into the lounge, otherwise I’m starting without you.”

Several minutes later, Jorah appeared in his favourite blue jeans and the yellow shirt that Daenerys had told him she thought looked perfect on him. Although he was smiling, his eyes couldn’t hide how tired he looked.

She looked like an excited little girl and it was enough for Jorah to put his own dark thoughts aside. He sat down next to her, looking at the pile of gifts under the tree.

“Can I go first?” Daenerys asked, almost bouncing on the couch.

Ever the gentleman, he nodded. “Of course.”

He’d thought she meant opening a gift. He hadn’t been expecting her to place a small wrapped package in his hands.

“Open it,” she said, her eyes darting to his lap.

Opening it carefully, he laughed as he held the silk boxer shorts up. “Oh, wow,” he said as he inspected them. The material was a dark red and the designer label indicated that she’s spent a fair amount of money on them. “Do I get to model them later?”

She cocked her eyebrow suggestively at him. “As long as I get to take them off of you.”

“Hmmm,” he said with a wry grin as he reached down to the tree to hand her a gift.

Her bellowing laugh warmed his heart as she opened the lingerie set that he’d bought her. The crimson lacy material did not leave much to the imagination.

“Great minds think alike, eh?” Daenerys said as she handed him another gift.

They exchanged gifts for several minutes, stopping to kiss one another and thank each other for their generosity. By the time they had finished, Jorah had several new shirts to replace the three he always seemed to have on constant rotation and Daenerys several beautiful pieces of jewellery.

It left one small gift underneath the tree. Daenerys picked it up and handed it to the man she loved.

He opened it, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked at the two silver bands nestled in the jewellery box.

“There’s one for each of us,” Daenerys said. “Have a look at the inside.”

Jorah lifted one of the rings out to inspect it. Inscribed inside was the exact date that they had met in the cancer ward.

“It was the day my life changed for the better,“ Daenerys said with tears in her eyes. She handed him another small package. “I know you’re not a jewellery type of guy, so I bought you this as well.”

He took the dark cord material, looped the ring through it and hung it around his neck. “This way, it will always be close to my heart,” he said as he leaned over and kissed her.

———————

Sitting on the couch several hours later, Daenerys decided to take the plunge and ask Jorah something that had been on her mind for weeks now.

“Jorah, how would you feel about having children?”

She felt him tense suddenly. Did he not want children with her?

Maybe it should have been something they discussed before they agreed to marry each other. It would invariably tear them apart if they both had different expectations of their future together.

She felt his deep intake of breath.

“Jorah?”

She was beginning to worry now. What if he never wanted to start a family with her?

“You don’t want kids?” She asked, trying to keep the hurt from her voice.

He kissed the top of her head. “There’s no one else I’d want to have children with than you, Daenerys.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She felt him tense again. “I’m worried that after…..after the cancer treatment that I might not be able to give you what you want.”

It suddenly made sense to her. Losing a testicle and then surviving a gruelling course of chemotherapy would affect anyone’s fertility. It occurred to her that her own might have been affected by her treatment too.

“How would feel about trying?”

“Right now?” Jorah asked. Their wedding was only a few months away.

“After we’re married,” she clarified. “I don’t want to look like a moose in our wedding photos.”

He laughed at that. “Daenerys, you could never look like a moose and even if you did, I’d still love you.”

“I’ll remind you that you said that when I’m heavily pregnant and sending you out for pickles and ice cream at 3a.m.”

He kissed the top of her head again. “I’d get up and go anywhere to get you pickles whenever you wanted.”

“So, we’ll start trying after the wedding?” Daenerys asked hopefully.

“Aye,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t get some practice in the meantime.”

—————————

Jorah had kept his promise to model the boxer shorts for her and in the spirit of fairness, Daenerys had done the same. They stood in their bedroom admiring each other.

“Red is definitely your colour,” Daenerys said as she beckoned him forward with a finger.

She pouted when he stopped a few feet away from her.

“You know your farmer fantasy?” He said with a coy smile.

The memory brought a blush to Daenerys’ cheeks.

She nodded her head.

“Well, I have this fantasy about a cute little Christmas elf.” He said as he looked at her intently.

“Really?”

He took a step toward her. “Yep. She’s got gorgeous blonde hair and the sexiest eyes I’ve ever seen. She has a present for me and I know I’ve been a good boy all year.”

“Have you?”

He took another step toward her. “I have,” he said as he hooked a finger under one of her bra straps. “This elf….she’s all wrapped up and so I pull on her ribbons until they fall away.”

Before she’d realised, he’d removed her bra, leaving her in nothing but her panties.

His hands started travelling further south. “But I still have another layer to remove.” He hooked his finger over the top of her panties. “So I make sure I open it carefully.”

She stood in front of him completely naked, feeling his eyes travelling over her body.

“I want to play with my toy,” he said as his lips travelled across her face and his hands travelled across her lower body. “I want to know what buttons to press,” he said with a glint in his eyes as his fingers found her most intimate area. “I want to explore every single area…”

Daenerys found herself reaching her peak from his fingers and mouth alone and yet she knew he wouldn’t leave it there. Her body was quivering by the time he’d finished ‘exploring her’.

He took a step back and looked at her and it was clear from the bulge in his boxer shorts that he was just as aroused as she was.

“By the time I’d finished….my toy was still shiny and sparkling but I wanted to keep playing with it.”

He lowered her to the bed and removed his boxer shorts. “I wanted to dive right in,” he said as he entered her quickly, both of them letting out a gasp of pleasure. “I wanted to play with it,” he said between thrusts, “until I was so tired that I fell asleep with my toy still in my arms.”

Just as it had been in the cottage, the sex between them had been somehow more erotic than their usual couplings. Perhaps exploring their fantasies made them less self-conscious and more adventurous when it came to their love life. Either way, it would stand them in good stead when they began trying in earnest for children.


	23. Love Makes You Strong

“Are you ready?” Jorah asked as he picked up the small holdall.

After months of waiting, the day of Daenerys’ reconstructive surgery had finally arrived.

She nodded at him. “As I’ll ever be.”

He walked over and placed a kiss on the side of her head. “I won’t leave your side, I promise.”

Daenerys wasn’t naive enough to think that they would let him into the operating room, but she knew without a doubt that he would stay with her until the hospital staff forced him to leave.

Jorah held her hand for the entire cab ride to the hospital and only let go when she was asked by a nurse to go through a few tests and get changed into a gown.

“We’re going to give you something before the general anaesthetic,” the nurse said as she injected a syringe of clear fluid into Daenerys IV line. “It’ll make you feel a bit sleepy.”

Jorah lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, trying to reassure the woman he loved that she would be fine. He knew she would be reliving the horrible day when her breast had been removed and that today’s surgery would be the first in a number of operations to create a new one.

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Daenerys asked, her eyes drifting shut.

Jorah shot the nurse a look. “I’ll be here until they throw me out.”

The comment caused the nurse to smile. “Your husband is quite protective, isn’t he?”

“We’re not married,” Daenerys replied. “Not until the Spring anyway.”

“Are you looking forward to the big day?” The nurse asked as she scribbled a few notes on the chart at the end of the bed.

Realising that Daenerys had not responded, Jorah cast a worried glance at her.

“It’s just the medication taking effect. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”

Jorah didn’t look convinced. The nurse seemed to pick up on his anxiety.

“We’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

———

To Jorah, it felt as if he’d been pacing the halls for days rather than hours as he waited for news on Daenerys and whether the operation had been successful.

He felt his heart miss a beat when a doctor approached him.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, panicked.

The doctor smiled at him. “Everything is fine. Miss Targaryen’s surgery went very well. She’s awake and asking for you. Would you like to come and see her?’’

He nodded and followed the doctor into a small side room, smiling as he saw Daenerys lying with her eyes half-closed. 

“Hi,” he said as he sat down by her bed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You’re here?” She asked tiredly.

He chuckled. “As if I’d be anywhere else right now.”

“I bet I look horrible, don’t I?”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “No, you look beautiful. Just like you always do.”

She shifted and winced at the pain it caused.

“The surgery?” She asked.

“The doctor said it went really well.”

Daenerys nodded her head, her eyes drifting shut of their own accord. She opened them again when she felt a furry presence on her bed. 

Jorah looked at her, his cheeks flushing red. “I got you something while I was waiting.”

She smiled at the three stuffed dragons he’d placed on her bed. Each was a different colour: black, green, and creamy white.

“I was going to buy just one, but the other two looked so lonely sitting on the shelf. I didn’t have the heart to separate them,” he admitted as he ran a hand across his beard. “I just wanted you to have something when they throw me out after visiting hours.”

Jorah was content to just hold her hand and watch over her as she recovered from the anaesthetic and surgery. He refused to let go until he’d been ushered from the room by a nurse and told to come back during visiting hours the next day.

——————

Jorah had sat by her bed every day that she’d been in the hospital and to Daenerys it felt good to finally be home. Although she was still sore from the surgery, she wanted nothing more than to sleep in her own bed with the man she loved lying beside her.

Jorah had not let her lift a finger since she’d left the hospital and had waited on her hand and foot, bringing her breakfast and bed and helping her get in and out of bed while the wounds on her chest slowly healed.

After four days of doing nothing but lying in their bed, Daenerys was beginning to get cranky at her lack of independence. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she threw the covers back and sat on the side of the bed. Placing her feet on the carpeted floor, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her as she stood upright for the first time in days.

She made her way shakily to the lounge and Jorah’s alarmed reaction to her standing there made her smile. 

He rushed over to her and helped her to the couch.

“You should have called out to me,” he admonished her gently. “I would have helped you.”

Being stuck in bed had not done much for her mood. “I’m fed up of being dependent on you.”

She regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean that how it came out.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I know how frustrating it is, but it’ll will get better, I promise you.”

She looked at him in confusion.

He pulled the collar of his shirt to one side and showed her the scar just below his collarbone.

“I got shot by a sniper on patrol in Afghanistan,” he explained.

It suddenly occurred to her that Jorah was referring to the same incident Thoros had told her of last year.

“I got shot in the back, just underneath my shoulder blade. The bullet went straight through my kevlar vest and ended up right here.” He pointed to the raised scar. “It tore through a lot of muscle, chipped a few bits of bone on the way through and punctured my lung.”

“Oh my god,” she gasped. 

She knew from Thoros that he’d been shot while on patrol, but she’d had no idea just how serious his injuries had been.

“I woke up back at the base with my right arm strapped over my chest and I never realised how much I relied on it until I couldn’t use it. Having people help you wash and get dressed is not much fun, believe me, I know. Especially when your male subordinates are the ones doing it.” He smiled at her. “I know it’s not exactly the same, but I know how frustrating it is not being able to do everything yourself. Although, with you as my nurse, I don’t think I would have complained quite as much as I did back then,” he mused with a rueful grin.

He was so good at making her feel better. No matter her mood or how low she felt, Jorah would always say something that would make her smile. Just being in his presence lightened even her darkest days.

“Are you sure that you don’t mind being my nurse?” Daenerys asked with a smirk, although she already knew the answer.

“Of course I don’t,” he said, kissing her on the end of the nose. “Marriage is about two people looking after each other. Through the good times and the bad. I’ll love you even when you’re being a grumpy pain in the backside.”

She kissed him tenderly on the mouth. “You’re the only person who could ever get away with calling me that,’ she said with a smile.

Daenerys watched him leave the room, only to return a few moments later with the three stuffed dragons that he’d bought her at the hospital. He placed them on the sofa next to her and declared, “Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons.”

She smirked as he bowed toward her. “You know, that has quite a ring to it. I could get used to being called that.”

“Hopefully we’ll have little dragons of our own soon,” Jorah replied with a grin on his face.

Daenerys shook her head. “Nope, they’ll be our little bear cubs.”

He looked at her, puzzled.

Daenerys lifted a hand to his face, cupping it gently and ignoring the twinge of pain it caused her. “You’re my dear, sweet bear. You always have been.”

He frowned. “I don’t get where the whole bear thing comes from,” he told her honestly. “People used to call me that in the Army.”

She couldn’t help but titter at how clueless he seemed to be about his effect on people.

“Why are you laughing?” He asked warily.

“You really have no idea about why people call you a bear?”

The perplexed look on his face gave her the answer.

“You’re strong and powerful and very, _very_ protective over the people you care about. Plus, you’re kinda hairy in all the right places,” she said suggestively.

“Oh, I see,” he said with a smile, “I suppose it’s a good job that I like honey as well.”

“And you’ll totally be a protective papa bear to our children.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Children? How many are we planning on having?”

She kissed him on the lips. “As many as possible. As many as we are blessed to have.”

“Well, if that happens, we’ll have to find somewhere bigger to live,” Jorah mused.

“How about that farm?” Daenerys suggested.

Jorah gave her a wolfish grin. “Aye, the sound of that farm is getting more appealing by the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The injury that Jorah refers to is told in the one-shot story 'Brothers in Arms' which you can find here if you're interested in reading it: 
> 
> [Brothers In Arms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769608)


	24. All Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: The Kilt-Mysteries Of a Scotsbear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am away on business for the next few days and so the next update is not likely to be until Thursday, but here is the latest chapter for you...

“Are you ready?” Missy asked, adding the finishing touches to Daenerys’ hair. Just over a year on from her cancer treatment, it was nearing the length it had been before her ordeal had started.

Daenerys nodded, groaning slightly at the roll of her stomach. Her hen party had been fuelled by alcohol and as always, another drink always seemed like a good idea at the time. 

They were words that she was living to regret this morning.

No matter how bad she felt, she knew that the moment she set eyes on Jorah in the church, any lingering hangover she had would disappear in an instant. 

Daenerys found herself growing unaccountably nervous. Missy gave her a sympathetic smile. “He’ll be there,” she told her, grasping her shoulder lightly as she stood behind her, admiring her handiwork with her friend's hair.

“I’m not sure why I’m getting so nervous,” Daenerys said, trying to keep her breathing under control.

Missy smiled at her. “Because you’re marrying the man of your dreams today.”

Daenerys knew that she couldn’t have put it better herself. Today, she would be marrying the man who had met her at her lowest ebb and helped her through the most challenging period of her life. He had done so while also fighting his own cancer battle and never once had he been anything but kind, thoughtful and generous toward her.

She wasn’t one to put much stock in fairytales, her own previous experiences telling her that no one ever got their happily ever after. At at time when the last thing she wanted to do was fall in love, her Prince Charming had wandered into that hospital room and changed her life forever.

They had known each other for eighteen months and yet, to Daenerys, it felt as if she had known Jorah for ever. So comfortable in each other’s presence, their connection seemed much more than that of any physical kind of love. There were people who come into your life and seem like they have known you for all eternity, who can somehow reach through all of your scars and wounds and touch your very soul.

There had been several dark moments during the last eighteen months and there were times when Daenerys could honestly say that she thought this day would never come. And yet it had. Today would be the day that she married the man she loved, a man that she loved like no other.

——————

“Quite fidgeting, Captain,” Beric Dondarrion growled as he adjusted Jorah’s jacket once more.

“I’m shitting myself here,” Jorah managed as he stood at the altar, glancing over the packed church. “What if she changes her mind?”

Thoros scoffed. “Never going to happen, old man. She loves you.”

The words seemed to have little effect on Jorah as he continued to fidget and let out deep, shaky breaths.

“Have you got the rings?” Jorah asked Dondarrion.

Dondarrion rolled his eyes. “Relax, they’re safe in my pocket.”

Jorah let out a sigh of relief. His choice of best man would have been either Thoros or Beric, he realised he’d chosen wisely by asking the latter to perform the traditional duties. 

That had left Thoros to organise the pre-wedding celebrations though...

His head was pounding and he’d woken up feeling like a dog had slept in his mouth, yet nothing would have stopped Jorah from being here today. Third time around, he had no doubts that Daenerys would be the woman that he would spend the rest of his life with.

He’d thought he’d loved women before, but nothing came close to the way he felt about the beautiful, intoxicating Daenerys Targaryen. From the day he’d met her, she’d taken up residence in his heart and unlike his ex-wife, she had slowly begun fixing the broken pieces that he’d long thought were destroyed beyond all repair.

At a time when he had resigned himself to giving up and letting the cancer win, she had walked into that hospital room and changed his life irrevocably and forever.

Jorah turned around at the sound of shuffling feet and felt the breath leave him in a rush as he saw her.

Standing at the far end of the church, Daenerys Targaryen was a vision of stunning beauty with her long blonde hair and white wedding dress cut and shaped in all of the right places to highlight her feminine beauty.

Jorah felt his heart skip a beat as she began the slow walk to meet him at the aisle. He couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out as she finally reached him.

“You look amazing,” he whispered.

She looked him up and down, grinning at the kilt he was wearing. He’d lovingly refused to say whether he would wear one for the wedding and had instead told her she’d have to wait until the big day to find out. He argued that it was only fair if he couldn’t see her wedding dress before then either.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied. “Nice legs, by the way.”

He smirked at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you ready?” He asked nervously.

She answered his nerves instantly. “I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

————————

The ceremony had been beautiful and both Jorah and Daenerys had tears in their eyes as the spoke their vows to one another. So intent on one another, they barely heard the cheers around the church as they kissed after being pronounced husband and wife.

They had been quickly whisked away to the reception at a local hotel in which all the guests seemed intent on handing them yet another drink to celebrate their nuptials. Jorah couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he sat next to his wife at the top table but he felt his stomach drop when he saw Missy rise to make a speech.

Tapping on her empty wine glass with a fork, Missy got the attention of the gathered guests.

“I’m sure that I speak on behalf of Daenerys and Jorah when I say thank you for coming here today. I think Dany would agree with me that her taste in men has often left a lot to be desired.”

A small ripple of laughter drifted across the room as Daenerys shot her best friend a look.

Missy seemed undeterred. “But I can say, without a doubt, that she’s definitely found a good man in Jorah.”

Jorah felt his own cheeks blush at the chorus of ‘Ahhh’s’.

“They say that people come into your life for a reason and even though they couldn’t have met under worse circumstances, somehow…somehow these two made it through it all and came out of it the other side.”

Missy paused for a moment to glance at the happy couple.

“It broke my heart when Dany left for Edinburgh…it was like losing a sister and when she told me she’d met someone and that it was serious, I thought I’d lost her for ever. It turns out that I didn’t lose a sister at all and even better, I got a pretty decent brother-in-law too.”

Missy raised her glass and toasted the happy couple as cheers went round the room.

“Thank god that’s over,” Daenerys whispered in his ear. 

“Don’t hold your breath, Dondarrion’s making himself look lively,” Jorah responded, motioning to the man who was slowly rising from his seat.

Beric Dondarrion cleared his throat and Jorah felt his heart sink at whatever bawdy tale his former comrade would decide to tell the assembled guests.

“Captain Mormont and I go back a long way,” Dondarrion began, “we’ve seen a lot of things we should never have had to and done things that will live with and haunt us forever. The Army is not a place for the fainthearted and I mean it sincerely when I say that the Captain here is one of the bravest and strongest men I’ve ever met.”

Dondarrion paused for a moment to clear his throat and Jorah could feel himself getting a little choked up too.

“There is no better man to have beside you in a firefight, no better comrade to have on the base. A man who is as honest as the day is long…except when it comes to poker.”

A small ripple of laughter drifted across the room and Dondarrion smiled at his friend.

“The Captain always looked out for the younger men on the base and took them under his wing, always the first to put an arm around a man’s shoulder and the first to buy a drink, but by god, never ever be on the opposing team when the football or the rugby ball comes out. He turns into an absolute animal….I still have the aching bones to prove it.”

Jorah felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as several of his former colleagues cheered at the comment.

“Captain Mormont is a good man, a far better man than I, and yet it pains me to say that this good man has had to suffer more pain than anyone should. I’m sure I’m not the only man here who would have gladly taken on the Captain’s battles as their own if they could.”

Jorah felt his eyes sting with tears as his former colleagues began nodding their heads in agreement.

Dondarrion cleared his throat again. “Nothing gives this old warhorse greater pleasure than finally seeing you happy, Captain, and we have the resplendent Daenerys Targaryen to thank for that. Please join me in raising a glass and wishing nothing but health and happiness to these two people. I can’t think of anyone more deserving than they.”

A huge cheer went up around the room and soon turned into clapping and whistling as the whole room stood to applaud them.

It was then Jorah’s turn to address the crowd.

“Well, I’m not sure how I’m going to follow on from that,” he remarked with a wry grin as he looked at Missy and his old friend Beric. He’d never been one for making speeches and he tried to keep his voice level as he spoke.

“What an eighteen months it’s been,” he began as he looked lovingly at his wife. “If someone had told me back then that I would be happy and healthy, I probably would have told them where to go.”

He paused for a moment.

“I don’t think that I could have been in a worse place when I met Daenerys and despite all of my baggage…somehow...somehow she loved me anyway. I thought that I’d been in love before, but I have never felt the way I feel about Daenerys about anyone else. She’s my wife, my lover, my best friend and my soulmate and I promise you this, Daenerys, I will love you until the end of my days. Thank you for fixing what I thought could never be repaired. I love you.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Daenerys launched herself into his arms and kissed him like they were the only two people in the room.

——————————

Food and wine flowed throughout the evening and the happy couple had done their obligatory first dance in front of their guests. As the alcohol flowed and the guests began getting more adventurous, Daenerys slipped her hand into her husband’s and pulled him toward the exit of the hall.

“Shall we leave them to it?” She asked, biting her lower lip and making her intentions clear.

He grinned at her. “Aye,” he said, waving their room key in front of her.

As they stood in the elevator, Jorah felt Daenerys’ hand snake toward his kilt. He grabbed her wrist gently to stop her hand travelling any further.

“It’s been over a year and I still haven’t had an answer to my question,” she pouted.

“Surely you can wait a few more minutes?” He asked with a smile.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve been wanting to pounce on you all day, especially when I saw you in your skirt.”

She knew that would get a reaction out of him as he pulled her close and devoured her mouth with his own.

He pulled away as suddenly as he had been on her. “If you keep calling it a skirt, I’ll never show you what’s underneath it,” he said with a wicked grin.

Finally, the elevator opened on their floor and Daenerys found herself being lifted off the ground.

“What are you doing?’ She shrieked in surprise.

He leaned in and kissed her as he walked toward their room. “I’m carrying my wife over the threshold and so I can ravish her.”

She placed a hand on his chest, barring him from kissing her again. “Really?’

“Aye,” he replied as he freed one hand to open their door.

Carrying her to the bed, he laid her down gently and began removing her wedding dress slowly, his eyes filling with desire for her before he finally let her discover just what really was under his kilt.


	25. Love Me Like You Do

Their wedding night had been blissful and no sooner had they woke the next morning, they were off to catch a plane to head off on honeymoon.

From the moment she’d risen on the first morning of their married life, Daenerys had barely been able to take her eyes off of the ring she wore on her left hand. The sliver band with beautiful diamonds a reflection of the relationship she shared with the man she adored.

Jorah had remained tight-lipped about their destination until they’d boarded the plane.

“Where are we off to?” Daenerys had asked as they’d settled into their seats on the plane.

“Somewhere I hope you’ll enjoy,” he said as he placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

“We could go to to Scunthorpe and I’d still enjoy it. I just want to be wherever you are,” she replied as she lifted a hand to his cheek, stroking it softly.

The destination had been even better than she’d expected, especially when Jorah had revealed that they would be taking a special trip to meet Komodo dragons. Their honeymoon had taken them across several Indonesian islands and he had left the best until last as they made their way to the island of Komodo.

“Are you ready?” Jorah asked as they made their way over to their guide.

Daenerys looked at him, her hands on his biceps as he smiled down at her and she jumped and laughed like a little girl at Christmas.

It felt as if they had walked for miles and they had followed their guide’s instructions to the letter, having been informed that the Komodo dragons were neither friendly nor welcoming to anyone entering their domain. They’d also been instructed to keep an eye out for the poisonous snakes that inhabited the area.

“I hope he knows where he’s going,” Daenerys whispered to her husband.

She smiled inwardly at the thought that she was now married to this wonderful, handsome and considerate man.

Jorah smiled at her, pointing at something behind her shoulder. “Turn around slowly and take a look.”

Daenerys’ eyes widened as she looked at the gigantic lizard.

“Komodo dragon grow up to 10 feet when adult,” the guide explained in a low whisper. “Weigh 150lbs.”

“Wow,” Daenerys breathed, watching the huge predator stalk through the shady bushes.

“Mating season begin soon,” the guide said as another Komodo dragon crept through the foliage. “Female usually lay up to twenty eggs. If you look up, you see young in the trees.”

They both followed the guide’s finger and saw several younger Komodo dragons in the tall trees surrounding the area.

“Are they dangerous?” Daenerys asked.

The guide nodded. “Komodo are largest predators on island and do not like humans. Many have been killed by Komodos. They will attack if we get too close.”

“They’re beautiful,” Daenerys said, awed by the sight before her, her breath catching in her throat as one of the lizards turned and looked directly at her.

She caught the guide lifting his rifle out the corner of her eye and felt Jorah tense behind her. She realised that instead of feeling frightened, she only felt a sense of calm as the Komodo dragon continued to look at her.

“No move,” the guide said quietly.

Daenerys realised that she didn’t want to move in that moment as something unspoken passed between her and the feral lizard.

After what seemed like an age, the lizard turned its back and walked away.

“We go now,” the guide said as he led them back through the dense foliage.

“That was amazing,” Daenerys said as she squeezed Jorah’s hand.

“Aye,” he chucked quietly. “You definitely are the mother of dragons.”

—————

Buoyed from their trip to see the Komodo dragons, Daenerys had managed to convince Jorah to take a dip in the shallow waters beside the beachfront hut they were staying in. She knew how self-conscious he was about the scars that ran down the left side of his body, but the beach was deserted and quiet.

He walked out from the hut in nothing but a pair of blue swimming shorts and Daenerys had to stamp down on the quell of desire his lean form created in her. Despite the scars, his broad chest and lean waist were a sight to behold and one that she would never grow tired of looking at.

She had begun to feel more confident in her own body since her operation to replace her missing breast and even though the area lacked sensation, it had made her feel much more desirable than she had before.

Not that it would have mattered to Jorah. He had already shown her in countless ways how much he adored her, no matter what she looked like.

Taking him by the hand, Daenerys led her husband into the shallow waters until it came up to her shoulders. She laughed when she realised that the water had barely reached his waist.

“I hope our children inherit your height,” she laughed, leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck.

He grinned. “Aye. As long as they get your looks, I’ll be happy.”

She frowned at his self-deprecation. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she tried to reassure him.

He let out a humourless huff. “I’m no oil painting.”

“Are you kidding me?” she shot back. “Do you know how many of my friends wanted to jump your bones when they met you for the first time?”

He didn’t look convinced. “A middle-aged, balding man?”

She lifted a hand to cup his cheek, running her thumb over it tenderly. “Why do you do this to yourself?’

He looked at her, puzzled. “Do what?”

“Why do you think so little of yourself?”

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, feeling the warm waters splash around his body as they stood together.

“My father,” he began, before trailing off. “My father was a hard man even before my mother died, but afterwards…he became even harder. He was cold…distant. He said that he wanted only the best for me…except my best was never good enough for him.”

Sensing that he was truly opening up to her about his father for the first time, Daenerys did nothing except hold him.

“I was never fast enough…strong enough…smart enough. If I wasn’t perfect in everything I did, he would rage at me…shout at me…sometimes he’d get his belt out and try to beat some sense into me.”

She gasped and held him tighter as he confessed.

“I’d avoid going home and there were days when I begged Mary’s parents to let me stay with them...but I always had to go back in the end. The times when my father hit me, he would eventually say sorry and that he only got so mad because he loved me and wanted the best for me, but I could never work out why someone who was supposed to love you could terrify you like that.”

She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be, it’s not that big a deal.”

This time she couldn’t keep her anger at bay.

“Of course it is!” She said, raising her voice. “Can’t you see that you’ve been carrying this around your whole life?”

He frowned in confusion at her.

“You’ve been carrying a weight that isn’t yours to bear. Your mother and Anais dying…that wasn’t your fault and you’re not responsible for the actions of your father. You have to let it go…you deserve to let it go.”

She saw him swallow deeply as his bottom lip shook and tears sprang to his eyes. “I’m not sure I can,” he said, “I don’t know how to.”

She kissed him and wiped away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks. “We’ll figure it out together, ok?”

He nodded and held her close, wondering what he had ever done to deserve someone like Daenerys in his life.

————————

After his beachside confession, they had retired to their hut to sleep away the hot afternoon and Jorah had woken to find Daenerys running slow circles over his chest.

“Jorah?”

He looked down and kissed the top of her head. “Mmm hmm?”

“Our wedding day,” she began as she lifted her head off his chest and looked him in the eye. “I came off the birth control.” She looked at him uncertainly, not sure of how he would react to her confession. They had agreed to wait until after the wedding to try for children, but she knew that it should have been something she’d told him straight away, especially considering how many times they’d made love since then.

“Ok.”

“You’re not upset?” She asked, puzzled by his response.

“Why would I be upset?”

“Because you had a right to know that we were having unprotected sex,” she replied.

He let out a deep chuckle. “Well, unless you’ve been sleeping with anyone else?”

She knew he was teasing her, but she answered him anyway. “Of course I haven’t.”

“Then you do know how babies are made, don’t you?”

He was playing with her and she decided to go along with it.

“Why no, no one has ever told me, kind sir.”

He turned on his side to look at her. “Well, how about I teach you?” He said seductively as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

She licked her lips in anticipation. “Will this be theoretical or a practical lesson?”

He rolled on top of her and kissed her deeply. “Oh definitely practical,” he answered her in between kisses. “Very, _very_ practical.”


	26. Shadow Days

Returning to Edinburgh after the honeymoon had meant that Jorah and Daenerys once again found themselves getting back into a normal working routine. 

Daenerys continued to work on a number of contracts she’d taken on, while Jorah busied himself with re-drafting some of the chapters of his latest book, based on the feedback from the ever-charming Olenna Tyrell. 

Olenna was nothing if not direct and it was something Jorah had grown to appreciate. There would be no coddling or beating around the bush when it came to her thoughts on his latest offerings.

Jorah realised that he owed a great deal of his writing success to Olenna. She had been astute enough to see Lynesse for what she was far sooner than he had, and had made sure that his ex-wife would never be able to stake a claim to any of the royalties his books had produced, even before their marriage was officially dissolved. 

For some reason, he’d not been able to sleep last night and had decided to rise early for fear of waking Daenerys. He knew that she would be annoyed that he hadn’t woken her, but she deserved a peaceful night’s sleep, not to be haunted by his demons.

The nightmares had been few and far between since he’d met Daenerys and yet there were still times when they would catch him unaware and leave him sweating and gasping for breath.

He’d crept silently into the kitchen and pulled out his laptop, quietly punching away at the keyboard as he allowed his mind to travel into the fictitious storyworld he’d created.

Writing had always been a way for Jorah to escape the world around him and had been a refuge of sorts during the traumatic periods of his life. It had come as a shock to him when he recently realised how much of a therapy writing had been for him and a way to work through the issues in his life that troubled him.

Physically and psychologically, he was in the best place he could ever remember being and yet he couldn’t get Daenerys’ words out of his mind from that day on the secluded beach. It hadn’t been until she had given voice to it that he realised just how much baggage he’d been carrying around with him throughout his life.

The negative voice in his head had always told him that it was no more than he deserved, that he had somehow caused all of the heartache and sorrow for himself. It had been the only logical explanation his mind could come up with. If people treated you poorly, it was because it was no more than you deserved.

And then Daenerys had come into his life and for the first time in so long, he felt some of the weight of that burden decrease. He no longer had to be the strong one, he had finally found someone who could help carry that load until he found a way to leave it behind entirely.

“How long have you been up?” Daenerys said, coming up behind him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Not long.”

The look she gave him made it clear that she knew otherwise, but she didn’t push him on it.

She sat down next to him at the table. “I wanted to make you breakfast in bed,” she said, sounding slightly disappointed.

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You know why,” she said, reaching for his hand and running her thumb across it. “It’s your birthday.”

He felt his cheeks redden. He’d hoped that she would have forgotten about it. 

When would he stop comparing her to other people in his life? Daenerys was nothing like the women he’d loved before. He wasn’t even sure he’d known what love was until he’d met her.

“There’s no need to make a fuss. It’s just another year,” he smiled at her.

“Says the man who organised a surprise celebration for me on my birthday…”

Jorah winced at the comment, remembering Daenerys’ not so pleasant response to his carefully-laid plans.

She saw the blood drain from his face as a thought occurred to him. 

“Please don’t tell me you’ve arranged some sort of party.”

She laughed at his pained expression. She knew he would have rather stuck pins in his eyes than attend a party held in his honour.

“No, I haven’t,” she reassured him with a kiss on his cheek. She smiled as he let out a relieved breath. She handed him an envelope. “I did get you this though.”

She watched him open the card and her heart soared at the smile that crossed his face as he read the words she’d written in there.

He leaned over and kissed her. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“There’s more,” she said as she stood, “wait there.”

He watched her go with a bemused look on his face, wondering what she was up to. She returned several minutes later with a large wrapped object in her arms.

He looked at her before opening it, his eyes widening when he realised what it was.

He placed the book on the kitchen table, wondering how she had managed to find a picture of his time in the Army. He was standing next to Thoros and Beric and a number of other men under his command.

“How?” He said, opening the book and turning the pages. He was stunned at the amount of photographs she’d found. He looked through the pictures of him with his unit, playing football and rugby under the hot Afghan sun and stripped down to the waist. There were dozens of them, most of them he’d never even seen before.

Next to each picture was a handwritten letter from men that he’d served with during his time in the Army, from Thoros and Beric to dozens of other men under his command. Reading through their letters had brought a lump to his throat as he realised just how highly his comrades regarded him. 

There were letters from men that he’d not seen or spoken to since the IED incident and it had pleased him to see that some of them were now commanding officers in their own right. The letter that touched him the most had been written by the parents of Private Peters.

_Captain Mormont,_

_Charlie had always wanted to be a soldier from the day he was old enough to walk and talk. It was all he would ever talk about and it helps ease our pain a little to know that our boy died doing something that he loved._

_We were nervous for him during his first tour, our only boy going off to fight in a war in some foreign land thousands of miles away from home. He was still so young and we worried that he would struggle being so far away from his friends and family._

_Charlie never came back, but we will never forget the day he told us that he’d found a home and a family in his unit and that you had been the first man to put an arm around his shoulder and welcome him. _

_We will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for him. We heard that you risked your own life to get him to safety and that you did everything you could to try to save his life. To know that he died in the arms of someone who cared about him and whom he respected so highly is a daily comfort to us._

_Thank you for your brave and loyal service to our armed forces and for the men you guided under your command. Your country owes you a great debt and one that can never be repaid, but please accept our sincere thanks and gratitude for making our boy’s dreams a reality._

_Yours,_

_Mr and Mrs Peters_

Daenerys felt a lump in her own throat as she saw her husband wipe away the tears that were rolling down his face.

“How?” He asked again, shaking his head as if in a daze.

“I had some help from Beric and Thoros,” she explained. “They reached out to a few old colleagues and I guess the word spread pretty quickly and soon everyone was sending me stuff.” She smiled at the memory of the dozens of emails and letters that she’d been receiving recently from so many of his former colleagues.

He looked at her, tears still shining in his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

She’d hoped he would be happy with her gift, but the tears he’d shed were leading her to believe otherwise. She began to fear that she’d upset him.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she said quietly, chewing on her bottom lip.

He let out a small laugh. “These are happy tears,” he said as he reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just amazed that you went to all this trouble.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t any trouble at all. It’s been kind of fun looking at you all sweaty, half-naked and being manly in the desert.” She smiled as he shot her a look. “All I did was stick them in the book, your army buddies did the rest.”

“No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me, Daenerys. I’m just blown away by it all.”

Jorah’s confession on their honeymoon had been the catalyst for the birthday present she wanted to create for him. She knew that she could have bought him nice clothes or a new laptop for his work, but she wanted to do something special. She wanted to find a way to make Jorah see what a good man he was and how many people’s lives he’d touched along the way.

He’d carried so much guilt around with him that he’d grown used to it and maybe a part of him felt comfortable in not letting it go. Daenerys was determined that she would not let him bear that weight alone any longer and if it took the rest of her life to prove to Jorah that he was a good man and one capable of being loved, then so be it. It would be a lifetime spent well as far as she was concerned.

He leaned over and kissed her deeply. “You have no idea how much I love you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

She returned the kiss with equal fervour. “I think I have an idea,” she said as she climbed into his lap, her arms snaking around his neck as he held her close.

As their caresses started to get more heated, Jorah’s phone began buzzing and vibrating across the table. Both of them were too enthralled in their sensuous assault on each other’s body that they ignored the sound altogether until the phone buzzed for the fourth time in as many minutes.

“Maybe you should get that,” Daenerys said breathlessly. “I’m guessing they’re not going to give up any time soon.”

Shooting his phone a dirty look, Jorah answered irritably. “This better be good, Beric.”

He’d expected a sharp-witted response from his former lieutenant. “I’m sorry to call you like this, Captain. There’s something you need to know.”

Jorah felt his heart drop. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“It’s the Colonel. He’s had a heart attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Private Peters and his story is mentioned in 'Brothers In Arms'. For those of you who have not read the one-shot piece I wrote, you can find it here if you would like to read it : [Brothers In Arms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769608)


	27. Because Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SlytherinHowl because...well, she knows why! :) <3

“It’s the Colonel. He’s had a heart attack.”

Jorah dropped the phone as if he’d been scalded. 

Daenerys picked it up immediately. 

“Beric, what is it. What’s happened?” Daenerys asked, concerned for Jorah and the way his face had paled.

“The Colonel, Jorah’s father…he’s had a heart attack.”

“Oh my god, is he ok?”

She could hear Jorah’s old Army buddy sigh heavily. “I got a call from the hospital a moment ago. It sounds pretty serious.”

“Which hospital?”

“Edinburgh Royal Infirmary,” Beric replied. “Listen, I’m sorry about the timing…but Jorah had a right to know.”

“It’s fine,” Daenerys lied. The look on Jorah’s face told her it was anything but. 

“Keep an eye on him will you, Daenerys?”

The tone of Beric’s voice made it clear that he worried what the news of his father’s heart attack would have on Jorah.

“I will.”

Cutting off the phone call, Daenerys turned in Jorah’s arms to face him.

“Jorah?”

“Jorah?” She repeated, louder this time.

“Jorah, are you ok?”

Her words seemed to finally permeate the fog he was in as he looked at her, dazed.

“Jorah, talk to me,” she pleaded. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, still clearly distracted.

Climbing off his lap, she stood and held a hand out to him. “Come on. We’ll call a cab to take us to the hospital.”

“No,” he said sharply. 

“He’s your father,” Daenerys said, trying to reason with him. “You’re his son.”

Jorah shook his head. “He made it very clear that I’m no son of his. Not anymore.”

“What if he dies and you carry that guilt around with you for the rest of your life?” Daenerys said. “How are you ever going to put this weight down if you don’t confront what happened in the past?”

He looked at her like a lost little boy and her heart ached for him.

“Please, just go and see him. I’ll stay with you, I promise.”

* * *

It had taken much coaxing, but Daenerys had finally convinced Jorah to visit his father. He was quiet and pensive during the journey, biting at his thumbnail and tapping his feet on the floor.

After exiting the cab and finding the correct ward, Daenerys watched her husband’s staccato movements as he considered whether to bolt entirely as they stood silently in the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, he squeezed Daenerys’ hand and strode across to his father’s bed exuding an air of confidence that she knew was no more than a facade. He was nervous, but he would be damned if he let his father see it.

The sound of footsteps must have woken the man in the bed. Daenerys looked down to find an older version of Jorah staring back up at her. The strong cheekbones and straight nose were a carbon copy of the man she loved. They even had the same piercing blue eyes.

She felt those eyes narrowing as the older man took her in.

“You came,” the older man, his eyes finally landing on the shape of his son.

Jorah stood stiffly, his military training coming back to him in an instant. “I did.”

“I wondered what it would take for you to show your face,” the old man growled. “I know how long you’ve been back home.”

The word ‘home’ took Jorah by surprise. His father had made it abundantly clear that Edinburgh would not be a city he would be welcome back in any time soon.

Jorah cleared his throat. “You made it quite clear that I wasn’t welcome.”

His father let out a wheezy breath. “You always were a stubborn fool. You never did listen to anything I said.”

Jorah turned to look at his wife. “I knew that this was a bad idea. Come on, let's go.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your fancy woman?”

It took all of Jorah’s self-control not to lose his cool with his father. “This is Daenerys. My wife.”

The old man rolled his eyes. “Another one?”

Jorah looked at his wife, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

Her heart sank as she watched him walk away. She knew that he wouldn’t leave without her and so she took the opportunity to tell his father a few home truths.

“Do you have any idea what it took for him to come here today?”

The man in the bed looked taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You have no idea, do you?” Daenerys continued. “You have no idea the damage you’ve done to him.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “I’m not the one who sold his family out for a pretty penny just to please some bit of skirt.”

She felt the air leave her lungs suddenly. “Wow. You know what, Jorah really undersold what a piece of work you are.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, young lady? What gives you the right to come in here shouting the odds at me?”

“Did you ever stop and listen to him? Did you ever, for one minute, consider what things were like for him?”

The man in the bed folded his arms as much as the wires and tubes would allow him. “What could he possibly say that would make any of what he did right?”

“Do you have any idea how much his time in the Army affected him?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been a military man all my life. It takes a real man to be a soldier. He never was tough enough to deal with the realities of war.”

“That’s what he was supposed to do with third-degree burns, is it? To be a real man?”

Daenerys could see that the question had hit close to home for Jorah’s father.

“I’ve seen too many men succumb to drug addiction. The number of opiates they were giving him…he’s never been strong-willed, that boy. I wouldn’t have my son being another drug-addled former soldier living on the streets.”

“He’s stronger than you know,” Daenerys shot back. “Far stronger than you’ll ever be.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because he almost died two years ago.”

Her words had the desired effect. It had been the first time she’d seen something akin to fear on the old man’s face.

“Why? How?”

“Cancer,” she said, flatly. “We both did and even though he was so sick, he took care of me the whole time. He was the one who got me through it.”

“I had no idea. He never told me…Mary never told me either.”

“That’s because he didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to see him as weak.”

“But he’s ok now?”

The look in the old man’s eyes made it clear that behind the bravado, he still cared about his son.

She nodded her head and stood abruptly. “I’ve said my piece. You won’t hear from us again. But if it makes any difference to you, the man you think you know so well is a far more honourable, courageous man than you’ll ever be. He was right you know, coming here and trying to make peace with you was a bad idea. I hope you enjoy the rest of your lonely little life.”

She didn’t give him the chance to respond before she turned on her heels and strode out of the hospital ward. She would be damned if she’d let him see the tears in her eyes.

She found Jorah standing outside the hospital, leaning over a railing. She could see how tightly he was gripping it by the white of his knuckles. Not wanting to spook him, she resisted the urge to touch him and instead leaned on the railing next to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a while. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like that.”

Knowing that he’d sensed her presence, she put an arm around his waist. “I don’t blame you. You had every right to do that.”

He turned his head to look at her. “I hope he didn’t say anything to upset you.”

She knew it shouldn’t surprise her anymore - his only thought was for her wellbeing and not his own.

“I gave him a piece of my mind,” she admitted quietly. “It’s about time someone put him in his place.”

She wanted to laugh at his shocked expression and had he not been so affected by coming face to face with his father again, she might have been tempted to tease him about it.

So far, Jorah’s birthday had not turned out as she’d hoped. Threading her arm through his, she led him to the taxi rank. “Come on, let's go home.”

He nodded and followed her gladly.

* * *

Daenerys had been content to watch over her husband that afternoon. Not wanting to crowd him, she stayed within earshot and allowed him to come to her if he wanted to. He’d been quiet and withdrawn and she could understand why.

She’d only spent a few minutes in the presence of Jorah’s father and yet she could already see what kind of hold the man seemed to have over him. All Jorah had ever wanted was his father’s love and acceptance - the two things that he had constantly been denied. Even now, his father couldn’t help but be condescending toward the man who had tried to put their past quarrels aside and make an attempt at conciliation.

She watched as Jorah spent most of the afternoon sitting on the couch with a book in his lap, yet it was clear to see that he’d not been reading its contents for many hours now. Sensing that he would be ok, Daenerys jumped in the shower, hoping that later on she could distract her husband with something far more tantalising than brooding over his father.

She had been toweling her hair dry when she heard Jorah call out, his words coming out in an unintelligible jumble. Running to the lounge, she saw his head move back and forth, his face crumpling into a grimace as his eyes remained closed.

She felt helpless as he thrashed about. Even her voice and gentle touch had not been enough to shake him from the dream that held him hostage. She’d been fortunate that she caught the movement of his arm seconds before he lifted it up in an effort to bat away whatever he was seeing as a threat.

It scared her to see the strain he seemed to be under as the veins on his head and neck stood out in stark contrast from his skin, his breath coming in rough gasps. She worried that he was having some sort of seizure or that he would hurt himself.

At a loss for what else to do, she slapped him across the face in the hope that it would wake him and bring him back to reality. By the third and hardest slap, it had the desired effect as he leaned forward suddenly, shaking and gasping for breath.

She took him in her arms and held him as he trembled violently. 

“Shhh, it’s ok,” she crooned. “You’re ok. It’s ok.” She kissed his damp and sweaty forehead. “Take some deep breaths, ok?”

He nodded and tried to do as she asked. He managed several before his hand shot to his mouth and he bolted for the bathroom.

She winced as she heard him retch violently into the toilet bowl, the contents of the lunch they’d shared exited his body in a rush.

She ran her hand up and down his back in soothing circles, feeling the dampness of his t-shirt as it clung to his body.

Maybe today had been too much too soon. It had been one thing to share with him the thoughts of his former colleagues in the Army. She had done it with the intention of rebuilding some of the foundations of his confidence in believing himself to be a good man, yet it had only taken one phone call and conversation with his father to knock it all back down again.

Daenerys knew her husband well enough to know that his mind had likely conjured up a scene so ghastly that all of the demons that haunted him had visited at once. She’d seen Jorah have several terrifying nightmares in the time that she’d known him, but never any as violent or affecting as this one.

Daenerys had wanted today to be a day that Jorah could remember for all the right reasons. Yet it had turned out to be one he would likely not forget, and for all the wrong ones.


	28. Fix You

It had been several weeks since Jorah’s visit to his father’s bedside and Daenerys could tell that he was still brooding about it. 

His nightmares were more frequent and there were times when Daenerys honesty didn’t know what to do for the best. She’d tried forcing him to talk about his past before, but all that had ever accomplished was to make the demons that haunted him at night even louder than they had been before.

She could see that the subject of his father had been eating away at Jorah since their visit to the hospital. Although he tried to hide it, he was pensive and quiet, no doubt running through in his mind how many ways that his poor relationship with his father was his fault.

The only thing that seemed to distract him was her loving touch and she’d become adept at knowing when she needed to take control and guide him away from his brooding thoughts, especially now his latest book was finished and recently published.

Walking into the bedroom, Jorah realised that he would never grow tired of seeing his beautiful wife dressed to impress. No matter how dark his thoughts were, she would always lighten his day with just her presence alone. He was under no illusions as to how lucky he was to have her by his side, especially considering what poor company he’d been recently.

He shrugged on his dinner jacket and kissed her cheek. “I suppose we better get this over with,” he said, straightening his tie.

Daenerys rolled her eyes at him. He’d been dreading this night since Olenna Tyrell had informed him of the industry award nominations his new book had received. It had only been published a few weeks ago and yet the sales had been strong and the reaction positive from readers and critics alike.

He’d steadfastly refused at first. There was no way he wanted to be paraded in front of a group of his peers like some sort of prize at a meat raffle. He’d always treasured his anonymity and only agreed when Olenna told him that no press would be present at the event.

“I’m not sure why you’re so shy,” Olenna had sniffed at him. “You’re one of the more handsome writers on our books.”

Jorah had spluttered a mouthful of coffee at her words in the busy cafe they’d been sitting in.

“Oh, calm yourself, boy,” she said dismissively.

“Uhhh,” had been his only response.

She looked him up and down. “As much as I like a younger man, you’re already taken, and I have no desire to be anyone’s mistress. I’m far too long in the tooth for that.”

“That’s good to know,” he’d replied, trying to keep his composure.

Daenerys’ touch brought him back to the present.

“I’m so proud of you, you know,” she said as she kissed him softly on the mouth.

After accepting the kiss, he opened his mouth to respond before stopping, reminding himself of the words Daenerys had said to him recently. 

“When someone gives you a compliment, they’re giving you a gift. Just smile and accept it.”

It had been words that he’d been trying to live by ever since.

He smiled and nodded his head. “Just promise that you won’t leave me alone with Olenna.”

She laughed at the strained look on his face.

“I’ll kick her ass if she even thinks about making a move on my husband.”

* * *

They had sat through the three-course meal, listening to Olenna regale the table with stories of her misspent youth and her early career in the publishing industry.

Any hope that Jorah had held about wine softening Olenna’s savage tongue quickly dissipated. Several glasses of wine had made her even more waspish in her opinions. He only tolerated it because Daenerys sat next to him, holding his hand under the table as she gave her best impression of hanging on Olenna’s every word.

Daenerys felt her husband beginning to fidget as the host took the stage to begin the awards ceremony. Jorah’s latest book had been nominated for two awards and she knew he’d be hoping that he won neither. Jorah was not a man who enjoyed being the centre of attention and would instead prefer to remain hidden away.

She placed a hand on his thigh as the first award he’d been nominated for was called out. She felt him let out a huge sigh of relief when it had been given to another writer.

“One down, one to go,” he said hopefully, praying that the same would happen for the next award.

He was not to be so fortunate though, with the host calling out his name as the winner of the category.

“Oh God. Oh God,” Daenerys heard him whisper as the blood drained from his face.

She kissed him on the lips and motioned for him to collect his award. He looked at her for several moments before she had to all but shoo him away and up on to the stage.

Her heart swelled as she heard the rapturous applause as his name was called. She watched him shake hands with the host and accept the award before making his way to the microphone. She smiled as he loosened the tie around his neck.

“Well, this is quite a surprise,” Jorah said, letting out a nervous laugh. “I can honestly say that I wasn’t expecting this.”

He paused as his peers and their assembled guests laughed.

“I’m not very good at this type of thing so I’ll make this short and sweet, which I’m sure you’ll all appreciate.”

The comment earned him another round of laughter from the audience who had already had to sit and listen to several people drone on for countless minutes as they delivered their acceptance speeches.

“Writing has always been a means of escape for me…something that took my mind off of the senseless violence and carnage I saw on the battlefield. I never imagined that one day other people would read anything I’d written. The thought honestly never occurred to me.”

He scratched at his beard to collect his thoughts.

“There are many things that I thought would never happen…like finding the woman of my dreams, the woman who has stood by me through everything and never…not even once, wavered.” He cleared his throat before starting again. “If I am anything, it is because of her…she single-handedly put this broken old man back together. So, this is for you, Daenerys. I love you.”

The room erupted in applause as Jorah left the stage to return to his table, the cheers becoming even louder as he took Daenerys in his arms and kissed her soundly.

Daenerys didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the ceremony; she was far too concerned with getting Jorah back home so that she could show him how much his words had meant to her.

Even though they had been intimate since his birthday, she had not wanted to push him into sleeping with her while his head was still in a bad place and had instead waited for him to instigate any meaningful contact between them.

It had been several months since she’d come off the contraceptive pill and Daenerys had been disappointed that she’d not yet fallen pregnant with their child. It certainly hadn’t been for a lack of trying either.

As the ceremony began to wind down, Jorah held out his hand and placed his jacket around Daenerys’ shoulders.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered in her ear.

She smiled seductively at him. Perhaps the wine they’d drunk was having an effect on him too.

He turned to Olenna before they left and kissed her on the cheek, speaking into her ear so that she could not misunderstand his words.

“Thank you for everything, Olenna.”

The old woman smiled and tried to disengage from his hold to respond in kind, but he held her in place. “If you ever speak down to my wife again, you’ll have to find yourself another cash cow to milk.”

The old woman laughed as he released her, knowing exactly what he was referring to - the time she’d come to his apartment and called his wife a ‘pretty little monkey’.

“I thought you’d lost a bollock, not grown another pair,” she retorted. “It seems like she’s good for you. About time you found yourself a decent girl, Mormont. Make sure that you don’t let her go.”

“Oh, don’t worry, “ he said, “I don’t plan to.”

* * *

After taking a cab ride home in which Daenerys held on to her husband’s award tightly, they made their way into the apartment building. Jorah had been halfway through saying something when he stopped suddenly and stood deathly still.

“Jorah, what is it?” She asked, craning her neck to look up the stairs that led to their floor.

Standing outside their front door was Jorah’s father and it was clear to Daenerys that he had not been expecting him to visit any time soon.

Reaching the front door, Jorah let out a tired sigh as he regarded his father. “It’s late, can’t this wait?”

Daenerys stood by her husband’s side, ready to defend him in an instant if needed.

The other man held his hand up in a placating gesture. “I know it’s late, but please son, I need to talk to you.”

The word ‘son’ took Jorah by surprise. He stared at his father for a number of moments, debating whether to refuse and send him on his way. Finally, he relented and opened the front door, motioning for him to enter.

Sensing they needed space to talk, Daenerys kissed Jorah on the cheek and bid him a good night.

“I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.”

He shot her a grateful look when she pinned his father with a glare before leaving the room.

“She’s quite a firecracker, that one.”

Jorah was in no mood for playing games.

“Why are you here?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” his father retorted before his expression softened. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

Jorah shrugged off his suit jacket. “And that’s supposed to mean something to me?”

Despite his cold dismissal, his father seemed undeterred.

“Having you visit me at the hospital was a shock. It caught me by surprise.”

Jorah looked at his father briefly before turning his back.

“It was a mistake. It won’t happen again,” he said sadly. “I was wrong to think things might have changed.”

“That’s why I’m here,” his father said, taking a step toward him.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since my heart attack. I’ve been speaking to Lieutenant Dondarrion…Mary…they wouldn’t say much, but they put me right on a few things.”

Jorah tried to keep his rising anger at bay. “I see.”

His father shook his head. “I don’t think you do, son,” he said as Jorah watched him run a hand through his long grey beard. “I came here to apologise.”

Whatever Jorah had been expecting the other man to say, it most certainly had not been that. The surprise must have shown on his face.

“Why?” Jorah asked. “Why now?”

“Because I almost died,” his father said with a humourless huff. “_You_ almost died,” he added softly. “I only realised what was right in front of me when it was nearly too late.”

“And what’s that?” Jorah retorted, snidely.

“That you’re my son and I love you and that if I didn’t take this opportunity, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

Jorah turned to face his father angrily. “Love?” He hissed. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“I loved you, just like I loved your mother - “

“Don’t you dare bring her into this!”

“I always tried to do my best for you after she died.”

“Your best?!” Jorah hissed. “Nothing I ever did was good enough for you. I was never the son you wanted me to be. You made that very clear when I was a boy.”

“You’re wrong, Jorah. I wanted you to be strong…to be a man who stood on his own two feet. I thought that if I made you tough that you wouldn’t get hurt like I did when your mother died. It almost destroyed me, son.”

“And what about the scared little boy that you used to reduce to tears. What about him?”

Jorah could see his father’s building frustration.

“No one teaches you how to be a parent - “

“Well someone should at least have bloody well taught you how to be a decent human being!”

“Jorah, if I could go back and change the things I did…I'd take it all back. I never meant to hurt you…I only wanted to protect you.”

“Well, you’ve got a pretty shitty way of showing it.” Jorah felt some of the anger deflate into a resigned sadness for all of the years lost between them and the damage his father’s actions had caused him.

“Please son, please give me a chance to make up for it. I know I’ve got a lot to put right and that I have no right to ask…all I’m asking for is a chance.”

Jorah stared at his father and silence stretched between them. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally.

“That’s all I ask, son.” His father said as he reached for the front door. “That’s all I ask.”


	29. Cat's In The Cradle

Having had time to consider his father’s words and discussing it several times with Daenerys, Jorah decided to grant his father one last chance to build some sort of relationship between them.

It was Daenerys who had convinced him of course. She pleaded with him to give his father a chance, if not for his sake, but for that of their children. 

With both of her parents and her brothers deceased, Jeor Mormont would be the only living family member their children would have. Jeor had asked for a chance to make things right and both Jorah and Daenerys knew it would be unfair on their children should they never know their only grandfather.

It had been with a sense of trepidation that Jorah made the call to his father last week to invite him for dinner. Daenerys sensed his growing apprehension as the day approached and now that it was finally here, he began to have second thoughts about the whole thing.

“Maybe tonight is a bad idea,” he said as they sat eating breakfast together. 

He had done little except push his cereal around the bowl.

Daenerys reached out and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be fine,” she said as she smiled at him. “Remember, it’s your father who has a lot to make up for, not you. All you have to do is give him a chance.”

“And if he ruins it?”

Her heart ached for Jorah, he looked like a lost little boy at that moment.

“Then we’ve done what we promised ourselves we would. We gave him a chance. If he blows it, that’s up to him.”

He nodded his head, sipping on his coffee. Daenerys knew him too well by now to know that there was something else he wanted to say.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said after a long pause. “About the royalties for the book.”

Jorah’s latest book had been a huge success, selling millions worldwide and earning him a handsome pay check to boot. The royalties were still flooding in with each day that passed.

“I want to put some of that money aside for our children…but we have everything we need already and so I was thinking…”

She watched as he chewed on his thumbnail.

“The hospital want to open a new cancer wing for children, so that parents have somewhere to stay with their kids…bedrooms, a games room and that kind of thing. They need another £600,000 to do it though.”

Daenerys thought her heart might burst with pride at that moment. She knew what he was going to ask without him even having to say it.

“I wanted to give them the money,” he looked at her nervously, “but I wanted to ask you first.”

“It’s your money, you don’t need to ask me.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s our money. You have just as much say in what we do with it as I do.”

Of course he would say that. She had no doubt that he would share his very last penny with her.

She leaned over and kissed him deeply. “I think it’s a beautiful idea,” she said between heated kisses. “Yes, let's do it.”

He beamed at her before his face sobered. “I remember how scary it was to go to that first treatment alone. I can only imagine how terrified a kid must feel having to go through that. I just want to be able to do something good with the money we have.”

She kissed him again. “Jorah Mormont, you are the sweetest, most thoughtful man I have ever met.”

He fidgeted nervously. “I’m no angel. I’ve made mistakes.”

She sighed. “We all have. That’s what makes us human and despite everything, you’re still the gentlest, most loving man I’ve ever known.” She kissed him several times before breaking away. “Now finish your breakfast, we have a long day ahead of us.”

* * *

Daenerys found herself getting quite teary as she watched Jorah give Mary the news about their donation to the hospital. At Daenerys’ insistence, Jorah invited his childhood friend over for coffee and told her of their plans to donate the money needed to complete the new children’s cancer wing.

Mary launched herself into her old friend’s arms, thanking them both several times for their generosity.

Daenerys laughed heartily when Mary suggested the ward be named after him. The look of abject horror on Jorah’s face had her almost crying with laughter.

“Please,” he begged Mary, “please do not do that.”

“The Jorah Mormont wing has quite a ring to it, don’t you think?”

Mary hugged and kissed them both goodbye before whispering to Daenerys, “I should have married him when I had the chance.”

She could tell by the amused expression on Mary’s face that she was only teasing, but Daenerys was under no illusions as to how lucky she was to call Jorah her husband.

Jorah had been quiet during the afternoon and had thrown himself into the preparation of tonight’s meal with his father. Despite her protests, he had insisted that he was fine and could handle preparing the food on his own. Deep down, she knew he needed something to keep his mind occupied and was happy to let him do his own thing in the kitchen.

Too soon for Jorah’s liking, there was a knock at the door. He looked at Daenerys as she gave him a reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath, he opened it.

“Father,” he said stiffly by way of greeting.

Jeor Mormont stood in the doorway, a bottle of wine in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other.

“How are you, son?”

Jorah knew that he wouldn’t be able to get his head around his father calling him that for some time to come.

Standing to one side, Jorah to allowed his father past. “Come in,” he said as Jeor handed him the bottle of wine. He watched his father warily as he made his way over to Daenerys, holding the flowers out toward her.

“These are for you, my dear,” Jeor said rather awkwardly.

Daenerys knew that the man was trying his best, so she accepted the flowers gratefully. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” She placed them in a vase before turning to him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Aye, that would be kind of you.”

“We have beer, wine…”

“A beer would be grand.”

Daenerys nodded, keeping her eye on Jorah who stood awkwardly in the kitchen. She handed both men a bottle of beer.

“Congratulations on the new book, son. I hear it’s doing well.”

Jorah immediately tensed at the mention of his writing, it had been the root cause of his falling out with his father.

Jeor picked up on his unease. “Truly, son. Well done.”

Wary of his father and his motivations, Jorah made his excuses and returned to the kitchen. That left Daenerys alone with a man that she’d only ever heard negative things about. She watched him as he walked around the lounge, taking in the photos on the wall, the ones of their wedding day in particular.

“They’re beautiful,” Jeor said, realising that Daenerys had been watching him. “It looks like you had a lovely day.”

“You should have been there,” she said evenly.

“Aye, I would have if I’d known,” Jeor took a sip of his beer. “There’s a lot I would have done differently had I known.”

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but decided to keep the conversation neutral. “Jorah tells me you’re a retired Colonel in the Army.”

Jeor smiled at the memory. “It’s a proud family tradition to serve in the armed forces.”

Daenerys was already fully aware that it hadn’t been through choice alone that Jorah had signed up for the Army and that his experiences during that time still continued to haunt him.

“Has Jorah shown you any of his medals?”

The question took Daenerys by surprise.

Jeor smiled. “He was awarded the Military Cross and Conspicuous Gallantry Cross for his time in Afghanistan. I was so proud of him.”

“Did you ever tell him that?”

She hadn’t meant for her words to sound so curt and if Jeor had been bothered by them, he didn’t show it.

He shook his head. “Probably not, but it’s something else that I need to put right.” He looked at her hopefully. “I’m hoping you can help me convince him to give me another chance.”

She looked at him warily. “And why should I do that?”

Jeor ran a hand through his long grey beard. “Because I’ve come to realise recently that life is far too short to waste. I’ve not been the father I should have been…that father that Jorah needed.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Jorah called softly from the kitchen.

The meal passed in awkward silence. 

Wiping his mouth on his napkin, Jeor was the first to speak.

“That was delicious, Daenerys. You have quite the talent.”

“It was all Jorah,” she said, looking at her husband who had begun twirling the stem of his wine glass nervously. 

Jeor looked at his son. “Well then, Jorah. That was delicious, thank you.”

Jorah nodded, but kept his gaze averted as Daenerys began to clear the plates away. At a loss for what else to do, Jeor stood. “Can I help you with that?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m just going to load the dishwasher. You two should go and sit in the lounge. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”

Daenerys felt Jorah’s eyes bore into the back of her head at that, the last thing he would want would be having an awkward conversation with his father.

Following the older man to the lounge, Jorah sat as far away from him as possible.

“Here,” Jeor said as he pulled something out of his jacket pocket. “I thought you might like to see these.”

Jorah felt his mouth go dry as he looked through the dog-eared photos of his mother, obviously taken many years ago and before he was born.

“She was always beautiful,” Jorah said quietly as he ran a thumb over one of the pictures.

“Aye, she was, son,” Jeor replied. “She was a strong woman though, just like your Daenerys. Your mother always knew how to deal with this stubborn old goat.”

The smile crept over Jorah’s face before he could stop it. Daenerys had a way of pulling him out of whatever funk he fell into and of using her infectious charm to brighten even the darkest of his days. Despite the times he’d tested her patience, she’d never once faltered in standing by him.

“I still miss your mother every day, Jorah.”

Jorah nodded sadly. “Me too. It's been so long that sometimes I struggle to remember what she looks like. I try so hard to keep her in my mind…but every day she grows a little fainter.”

“Then you should keep them,” Jeor said, motioning to the photographs.

“Are you sure?” Jorah asked, clearly surprised.

Jeor nodded. “Your mother adored you. She always said you were the apple of her eye.”

“And I let her down,” Jorah said quietly, running a shaky hand over his head. “I let you both down.”

His father’s hand was on his arm before he realised what was happening.

“No, son. I’m the one who let you down.” Jeor sighed, “There were so many things I should have said…things I should have done after your mother died. Except all I could see was my own grief.”

Jeor took a deep, shuddering breath. “I thought that if I toughened you up…that you’d never have to feel the pain I did when your mother died. In my own way, I was trying to protect you.”

Jorah ran a hand over his beard, risking a quick glance at his father. “I never felt as if I were the son you wanted me to be. God knows I tried…I tried so hard, but I never got it right.”

Jorah felt a hand on his arm once more. “You did your best, son. I was the one who should have tried harder…to be the father that you needed me to be.”

Jorah opened his mouth to respond when his phone rang. It vibrated noisily across the coffee table.

“I…uh, I better get that,” he said, glad for the excuse to leave. He grabbed the phone and left the room.

“Everything ok?’ Daenerys asked from the doorway as she studied the hunched figure of Jorah’s father.

“Aye,” Jeor said, attempting a smile. “I was just showing Jorah some pictures of his mother when we first started dating.”

He handed her the photographs.

“She’s stunning,” she remarked as she looked through the pictures.

“Aye. I have no idea what she saw in me though.”

It made Daenerys smile to think how alike Jorah and his father were when it came to their own self-image.

“Jorah says the same about me,” she said by way of explanation. “The two of you are more alike than you think.”

Jorah entered the room a few minutes later, a strained look on his face.

“Sorry, that was Olenna,” he said as he pocketed his phone. “She was querying the uh….royalties and what we planned to do with them.”

Jeor watched as a smile crossed Daenery’s face. Sensing that there was something unspoken between the two of them, Jeor made to leave.

“Thank you both for this evening. I hope we can do it again soon.”

Daenerys accepted his brief embrace and kiss on the cheek, but Jeor couldn’t help feel disappointed when Jorah only offered his hand.

“I hope you’ll allow me to return the favour and let me cook you dinner next time. Jorah’s mother taught me a few recipes that I think I might still be able to pull off.”

Jeor stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for his son to respond. When he didn’t, he turned to leave and only stopped when he heard Jorah call out.

“Dinner next week would be good…If you’re free?”

Jeor beamed at his son, hoping that they were finally making progress. “Of course, son. Looking forward to it.”


	30. The Waiting

It had taken months and several meals for Jorah to feel comfortable in his father’s company, and while they were not overt in their words or actions, it was clear that the cold words of the past were at least thawing. After several years of not speaking, it was perhaps the best that they could have hoped for.

Although things were going well with his father, things were far from simple in other areas of his life.

Frustrated with the lack of progress with the latest chapter of his book, Jorah closed the laptop lid with a dull thud and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

It wasn’t just the sequel to his latest book that was troubling him. Despite many months of trying, Daenerys had yet to fall pregnant.

It was as if she had become obsessed with the idea of getting pregnant and had looked at every website she could find that gave advice on how to increase their fertility.

She had recently downloaded an app on her phone that claimed it could predict the dates and times that would give them the best chance of successfully conceiving.

They had been trying with the help of the app for the last two months and Jorah had to admit that it was starting to grate on him, as if sex was something to be scheduled and diarised. For him, it took most of the pleasure out of the act of making love.

He felt Daenerys’ arms snake around him as she kissed him behind the ear. He knew instinctively what would come next. She would use all of her feminine wiles to lure him toward the bedroom. No doubt the app was telling her that she was at optimum fertility and that they would need to use their window of opportunity wisely.

He closed his eyes and sighed, hearing her huff of disapproval as he stiffened at her touch.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “Don’t you want to?”

He’d been dreading having this conversation weeks now. No matter how he framed it, he knew she would not take it well.

“I think what I want is beside the point.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her tone was clipped. He could tell that she was hurt by his rejection of her advances.

“I’m tired of us having sex on some sort of schedule. It feels like I’m back in the Army on a military manoeuvre. It’s become so…regimented.”

She stalked across the room and glared at him.

“Wow. You’ve just compared sleeping with me to invading Iraq. Thanks a lot, Jorah.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I want to make love to you because we want it, not because some bloody app says we should. It just feels like we’re going through the motions lately.”

He felt awful as he saw her bottom lip tremble. “I just want us to have kids. I feel like I’m letting you down by not getting pregnant yet.”

He was by her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her. “Of course you haven’t,” he reassured her. “Maybe it’s me that’s the issue,” he said, glancing at his trousers.

“It’s been almost a year, Jorah and nothing has happened. I just want us to have the best chance of conceiving.”

“The stress of all this isn’t helping. Maybe you should delete the app,” he suggested and he could see the doubt in her eyes. “I don’t want some computer programme telling me when it’s ok to make love to my wife.”

She smiled at how old-fashioned he sounded.

“Let’s just go back to basics, hmm?” He said, laying his chin on the top of her head. “We’ll give it a few more months and if we haven’t conceived by then, we’ll look at our options. How does that sound?”

He smiled when she pulled out her phone and deleted the app. He began to trail wet kisses down her face and neck before lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom.

“What are you doing,” she asked in a breathy laugh.

“I’m taking my wife to the bedroom to have my wicked way with her,” he grinned as he carried her down the hallway. “We have babies to make.”

“I thought you didn’t want to,” she said as he gently laid her down on the bed.

He looked at her, serious now. “I want us to make love because that’s what we want, not because someone or something says we should. Being intimate is about showing someone how much you love them. Now let me show you…”

Whatever argument she’d been intending to put up was lost as Jorah’s hands found their way across her body.

* * *

Having mended their earlier quarrel, Daenerys and Jorah made the short journey to Jeor’s for another meal with him.

Jeor opened his front door and beamed at his son and wife, beckoning them to enter his home and make themselves comfortable. There was a knowing smile on the elder Mormont’s face and Daenerys wondered what he was up to.

Jeor handed them both a glass of wine and joined them in the lounge with his own glass.

“How have you both been?” Jeor asked.

Jorah and Daenerys glanced at each other, deciding to show a united front.

“We’re good, Father,” Jorah responded, still not comfortable with the man showing any interest in his life.

“And the book is still selling well?” Jeor asked.

Jorah blushed slightly and nodded his head. “Aye, it is.”

“I’ve read good things about it.”

His father’s words caught him by surprise. The subject of his books was a contentious one to say the least.

“And you are looking radiant tonight, Daenerys,” Jeor observed. “You look positively glowing.”

Perhaps the fact that they’d made passionate love throughout the afternoon had something to do with it, she thought.

“Dinner won’t be long,” Jeor said as he took a final sip of his wine and left for the kitchen.

“Ok,” Jorah said warily. “Something is definitely up with him.”

Daenerys gave him a sympathetic look. “Jorah, he’s trying really hard to mend fences with you.”

Jorah shrugged. “I know. It’s just…strange. It’s hard to get my head around.”

Daenerys leaned over and kissed him tenderly. “I’m so proud of you for giving him a chance, you know.”

His only answer was to shrug in that awkward way he did whenever anyone paid him a compliment.

* * *

Dinner had not been what Jorah had expected and his shock showed when Jeor proudly took the lasagne from the oven. It was the first time he'd had the dish in this house since the passing of his mother. That his father had gone to the effort of cooking his favourite meal that his mother used to make almost caused him to tear up.

Wiping his mouth on a napkin, Jorah looked at his father, sincerity clear in his eyes.

“Thank you, Father.”

Jeor smiled at his son. “How about calling me Dad? If it’s not too strange.”

Daenerys smiled at how hopeful the older man sounded.

Jorah rubbed at his jaw. “I’ll try. It might take some getting used to, though.”

Jeor nodded at his son, knowing that small steps were all that mattered at the moment. As long as they were making positive moves forward, he could live with taking it slowly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jeor said, “when are you two going to make me a grandfather?”

It had been instinctual for both of them to stiffen at the question. Jeor was nothing if not a shrewd judge of body language.

“Jorah’s mother and I tried for several years before she fell pregnant with him,” Jeor supplied, seeing how uncomfortable they both were. “It wasn’t for a lack of trying though.”

The blood drained from Jorah’s face as he listened to his father.

“In fact,” Jeor continued, a wicked grin on his face, “there were a number of times that she could barely wait for me to get through the door before she jumped on me. We made love on this table several times.”

Jorah sprayed white wine across the table as he choked on the liquid, but it earned nothing but a smile from his father.

“She was quite ravenous, your mother,” Jeor added, adding insult to injury and revelling in teasing his son.

Jorah stood abruptly and made his excuses from the table, earning a sympathetic smile from Daenerys.

“That was mean,” Daenerys said, although it was clear that she was amused at Jeor’s antics.

Jeor’s face sobered. “Seriously,” he said, placing a hand on her arm. “It’ll happen when the time is right. Try not to worry so much.”

Daenerys frowned. “Jorah thinks it’s because of his cancer.”

Jeor shook his head. “Mormont swimmers are strong. They just like taking their time, that’s all.” He smiled at her. “Can I show you something while Jorah’s in the bathroom?”

Intrigued, Daenerys nodded and followed Jeor to the study. Her eyes widened when she saw the collection of books on the shelf - his son’s books.

Jeor gave her a wry smile. “I figured I should read them… I hoped they might help me understand my son.”

“And did they?” Daenerys asked.

She didn’t miss the way Jeor’s eyes moistened. 

“I read them and after the first book… I realised what a talented boy my son was. I was so angry that he used his mother’s past…but the way he wrote it….it was beautiful.” Jeor looked so sad as he glanced at her. “I realised what a fool I’d been to turn my back on him. My son…my wonderful, talented son.”

Daenerys couldn’t help but feel for the old man. “He’s trying, he really is,” she said, as if by way of encouragement. 

Jeor sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to keep his complex emotions under control. “It’s all I can ask of him.”

“He’s as stubborn as you are,” Daenerys said, smiling. “You two are moving in the right direction though.”

Jeor nodded gratefully at her.

“If I might make a suggestion?” Daenerys added.

“Of course, my dear.”

“Maybe you should be telling Jorah these kinds of things, not me.”

Jeor knew she was right, but somehow it seemed easier to show her than it did his own son. It did nothing except to prove how much work he still needed to do to repair the relationship he had neglected for so long.


	31. Stay Another Day

“Oh my God,” Daenerys gasped, looking at the screen beside the bed, beaming at Jorah as he held her hand tightly. It was the first time they’d seen their baby since Daenerys realised she was pregnant.

The sonographer smiled at the expectant parents. “Your baby has a strong heartbeat and is growing well. Congratulations, mum and dad.”

“Can you tell if we’re having a boy or a girl yet?” Jorah asked, wiping a tear from his cheek as he saw his unborn child on the screen.

The sonographer shook her head. “It’s too early to tell at the moment. They’ll be able to tell you at the next scan. Do you have a preference?”

Daenerys and Jorah looked at each other. “As long as our baby is healthy, we’ll be happy.”

After almost eighteen months of trying, Daenerys had woken one morning several weeks ago feeling distinctly unwell. She’d put it down to something she ate at first, but when the vomiting ailed her several mornings in a row, hope sparked in her that maybe, just maybe, she was pregnant.

Unable to keep the news to herself, she asked Jorah to buy a pregnancy test from the pharmacy so that they could find out, one way or another, if they would be expecting a baby.

It had seemed to take hours for the pregnancy test to yield its results and they had taken several more tests just to be sure. After the sixth test, neither of them were in any doubt that they had finally fallen pregnant.

It was sorely tempting to tell their friends and family immediately, but they decided to not tempt fate until they’d attended the first scan to determine if all was as it should be so early into the pregnancy.

There were many stressful times in the past eighteen months. Times when both Daenerys and Jorah began to lose hope that they would ever be able to complete their family by having children. They had almost resigned themselves to the fact that it would never happen, when finally it did.

“I would estimate that you’re about ten weeks along, give or take a few days,” the sonographer said.

“At least it gives us plenty of time to plan and get everything ready,” Jorah said as he kissed his wife on the side of her head.

“Is this your first?” The sonographer asked.

Daenerys caught the pained expression on her husband’s face.

“Yes, it is,” she said, squeezing Jorah’s hand. “This is completely new to us.”

The sonographer wiped the gel from Daenerys’ stomach and smiled at her. “Well, I can assure you that everything is looking very good so far. You’ll need regular scans throughout the pregnancy though.”

Daenerys nodded her head, having already had eighteen months to research fertility and pregnancy as their fruitless attempts to conceive wore them both down.

“Have you told your friends and family yet?” The sonographer asked.

Jorah cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the cough that had been bothering him over the past few days. “We’re planning to over the holidays,” he said before covering his mouth to stifle another cough. Christmas was just around the corner and neither of them could have asked for a better gift.

Jorah put a hand over his mouth as he cleared his throat again and it didn’t go unnoticed. “Coughing near your wife is not going to harm the baby,” the sonographer said with a knowing smile. “It is flu season however, so make sure you get your flu shot, mum.”

Daenerys nodded, excited that she would now be able to tell everyone that, finally, she and Jorah would be having a baby.

* * *

Jorah’s relationship with his father had improved to the point that both he and Daenerys had invited Jeor to stay with them over the Christmas period. It would be the perfect time to tell him that he would be a grandfather in less than a year’s time.

Jeor was nothing if not punctual, arriving at 7p.m. on the dot. Jorah opened the door and smiled at his father who stood in the doorway laden down with several bags of wrapped gifts.

“Come in,” Jorah said as he held out a hand to take some of the bags his father carried. “Please tell me this aren’t any more,” he added warily.

Jeor let out a laugh. “Just these ones,” he said as he placed them on the floor before embracing Daenerys. “You look positively glowing, my dear.”

Daenerys and Jorah shared a knowing look. Jeor was a shrewd man and would figure it out quickly enough when she didn’t join them for a glass of wine later in the evening

Jorah excused himself and headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of beer for himself and his father, groaning as a wave of dizziness came over him.

Shaking his head, he grimaced at the fact that the winter virus that had been bothering him for the last couple of weeks was still taking its toll on him. In between the coughing, the headaches and the general aching in his bones, he was feeling less than his best.

It had been enough for him to forgo his daily jogs and for the past few days he’d struggled to even do a few sit ups and push ups. Normally, he would have pushed himself regardless, but now that he was due to be a father, he knew he’d be better off letting the virus run its course and succumbing to its effects for the few days that it would hang around for.

Walking back into the lounge, Jorah handed the bottle of beer to his father, who noticed that Daenerys was only sipping on a glass of lemonade.

“You’re not joining us?” Jeor asked, a wry smile on his face.

Daenerys shook her head. “I’m in charge of our evening meal. Trust me, I’m nowhere near as good a cook as Jorah is, even when I’m sober.”

Although her words were light, Daenerys knew that Jorah had’nt been feeling great for the past few days and she was eager to do anything that would allow him to recover from the virus that had hit him hard recently.

She’d noticed that he’d not been heading out for his morning jog and had caught him falling asleep sitting at his laptop over the last week or so. He’d been pale and drawn over the last few days and even though he tried to hide it, Daenerys knew that he was feeling distinctly unwell.

A second knock at the door caught Jorah by surprise, the shock must have registered on his face as Daenerys touched his arm before heading for the front door. 

“That’ll be Mary and Stan,” she said as she wiped her hands on the dishtowel.

For the life of him, Jorah couldn’t remember either he or Daenerys inviting his childhood friend round.

He put it down to the fact that both he and Daenerys had been consumed by the news of the pregnancy and the effect it would have on them both. There were so many things that needed doing or organising, as well as Christmas, and it seemed as if they’d barely had time to stop and take a breath recently. No wonder Mary and Stan visiting had slipped his mind.

Jorah smiled as he heard Mary’s voice behind him and turned to face her. “Mary, so glad you could make it,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Stan, it’s good to see you,” he said as he shook the man’s hand.

“You too, Jorah,” the other man said, handing over a bag of gifts with a frown. “You’ll have to forgive us, Mary has gone a little overboard on the gifts this year.”

Stan’s words were heard by his wife. “Don’t be so sour,” she tutted at her husband. “It’s Christmas.”

Sensing that he would never win the argument, Stan did nothing except raise his eyebrows at Jorah who looked at him with something akin to sympathy.

After heading to the kitchen and returning with drinks for their new guests, Jorah frowned at Mary as she gave him a searching look.

“Is everything ok with you, pet?” Mary asked him as she placed a hand on his arm, concerned by his appearance.

He rolled his eyes at her. “It’s just the flu. I’m fine.”

Knowing Jorah as well as she did and being a nurse by trade, Mary prodded him further. “How long?” She asked.

Jorah looked at her, confused. “How long, what?”

“How long have you felt unwell?”

He groaned. “Mary, please. Can we not do this now?”

Jorah turned to move away from his old friend, but she was undeterred and refused to let go of his arm.

“Jorah, you know as well as I do that we need to be cautious, especially with your recent history.”

He scowled at her. Right now, what he didn’t need was Mary being overprotective and overreacting to what was just a case of the flu. He’d had it several times before and no doubt would again before his time on this earth was up.

His head was pounding and he’d been feeling sick all day. He had neither the energy nor the inclination to keep arguing with Mary about it.

“Ok,” he said as he took a swig of the beer that he wasn’t particularly enjoying. “If it hasn’t cleared up after Christmas, I promise I’ll go and get checked out, ok?”

Mary didn’t look convinced but she had known Jorah long enough to know that once he’d given his word, he would not go back on it. Satisfied that she’d made her point, she nodded and let it go.

* * *

Daenerys noticed that Jorah hadn’t eaten much of the dinner they all sat down to eat. Part of her might have been offended had she not known how rotten he’d been feling since waking this morning.

Not that they would tell their guests, but Jorah spent most of the morning and the early afternoon in bed. He’d been restless all night and Daenerys begged him to take a couple of strong painkillers so he could rest. She only convinced him when she threatened to cancel their evening plans if he didn’t agree.

He rose around 4p.m., showered and joined Daenerys in the lounge, insisting that he was well enough for the evening festivities.

The meal passed in polite conversation that started dying out when Jeor said what had been on everyone’s mind all night.

“Could I ask you a question, Daenerys?” He asked as he took a sip of his wine.

She nodded her approval.

“Are you pregnant?”

Glancing at Jorah, she couldn’t hide her smile as she nodded, her cheeks flushing as Mary clapped her hands over her own mouth and let out a delighted squeal.

“Oh, hen,” Mary said, tears in her eyes, “I am so, so happy for you both!”

Even though he’d suspected it, to have the news confirmed had caught Jeor by surprise.

“I’m to be a grandfather?” He said, his eyes watering.

Jorah nodded. “Aye.”

Before he’d even realised it, Jorah found himself wrapped in his father’s strong embrace.

* * *

The conversation had flowed throughout the evening as their guests chatted excitedly about the news of Daenerys’ pregnancy, but try as he might, Jorah struggled to keep up with the conversation as his headache returned with a vengeance.

He’d only had the one beer all night and had been fielding concerned looks from everyone, including his father. He reassured them that he was fine and just feeling a little under the weather.

He hoped that he’d been smiling at all the right moments and that no one realised that his head was swimming, making it hard to concentrate on what everyone was saying.

He toughed out the feelings of nausea since their meal for as long as he could, before excusing himself and slipping away quietly to the bathroom.

Another wave of dizziness hit him as he closed the bathroom door and leaned back against it. He’d not felt his bad in a long time, but he knew that the flu often kicked the crap out of him the few times he’d caught it in the past.

Straightening himself, he felt the room spin wildly before everything went black.

* * *

Daenerys glanced at her watch, realising that Jorah had been gone for more than twenty minutes. Even if he’d gone to bed, he would have told her he was doing so. It began to gnaw away at her that something wasn’t quite right.

She made her own excuses and checked the bedroom, her concern rising as she flicked on the light and saw that the bed was empty. Making her way to the bathroom, she knocked on the door.

“Jorah, are you ok in there?” She asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. “Jorah?” She said, louder this time.

Silence greeted her in response.

Panicking now, she thumped on the door and called his name again. “Jorah?”

It must have been loud enough for their guests to hear as they made their way to the hallway.

“Everything alright, love?” Jeor asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head, her vision swimming with tears.

“I think something’s wrong.”

Jeor nodded and motioned for Daenerys to move away from the door.

“Son?” He said as he thumped on the door, listening closely for any sounds of movement. “Stay back from the door if you can, I’m going to kick it in.”

Jeor Mormont was as powerfully-built as his son and kicked the door down in one attempt, only to find his son slumped between the bath and the sink, a trail of blood dripping from his head and on to the floor.

Mary rushed forward, feeling Jorah’s neck for a pulse before turning to her husband. 

“Call for an ambulance.”

Stan nodded and pulled his phone out, making the call instantly, years of being married to a nurse meant he knew what to say and how to answer the operator’s questions.

Next, Mary turned her attention to Daenerys. “Hen, I need you to grab a pillow and some fresh towels, ok?” She had to repeat herself several times before Daenerys finally moved, having stood frozen at the sight of her husband collapsed on the bathroom floor. 

She turned to Jeor next, giving him instructions to help move Jorah to a more comfortable position before opening each of his eyelids in turn to check his pupils.

“Mary, will he be ok?”

It had been the first time that Mary had ever heard Jeor sound timid and it frightened her. She tried her best to hide her fear as she glanced at Jorah.

“Once we get him to hospital, we’ll know more.”

She knew Jeor was unlikely to be satisfied with such an answer.

“The flu wouldn’t do something like this,” Jeor said as he ran a hand through his beard. “This is something serious, isn’t it?”

Mary tutted at him. “What we all need to do is keep calm, ok?”

Daenerys reappeared in the doorway, shaking and holding a pillow and several towels in her hands. Jeor stood and took them from her gently, passing the pillow to Mary to place behind Jorah’s head.

Stan returned a few moments later. “They’re on their way. They should be here soon.”

Mary nodded her gratitude at her husband’s calm demeanour. Jeor and Daenerys were understandably panicked at the scene before them.

She returned her attention to Jorah, gently dabbing at the wound on his forehead with one of the towels.

“Just keep nice and still, pet,” she told him gently, frowning as she saw the tell-tale signs of a convulsive seizure. She could do nothing as she watched her old friend jerk and twitch on the bathroom floor, knowing that they had no choice but to let the seizure run its course.

She faintly heard Daenerys screaming behind her.


	32. Strength and Weakness

It had been the longest few hours that Jeor could ever remember spending as they sat in the hospital waiting room, awaiting word on Jorah’s condition. Daenerys had been the one to ride in the ambulance with her husband and had not stopped shaking since.

Jeor reached out a hand to reassure her. “It’ll all be ok,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel.

It seemed as if Daenerys did not believe his words either as she shrugged him off angrily. “It’s been hours and they’ve told us nothing.”

Mary and Stan had also stayed with them, refusing to leave until they’d heard whether Jorah would be ok.

“They’ll be running some tests,” Mary said as she held the now-cold cup of coffee in her hands. “They’ll want to check that everything is as it should be. Sometimes these things happen when people have the flu.”

“But the seizure…” Daenerys said, unable to finish the sentence. The sight of Jorah convulsing on the bathroom floor had terrified her.

“It could have been caused when he hit his head on the sink,” Mary suggested. “Chances are he fainted and cracked his head on the way down. You know how he likes to take these things to the extreme.” 

The words were meant to be jovial, but the inhabitants of the room felt anything but.

They all looked in the direction of the door as a young doctor knocked and walked in.

“Family of Jorah Mormont?” He asked the assembled group as they all nodded.

The doctor glance at the clipboard in his hands. “I have Daenerys Mormont listed next of kin, is that correct?”

Daenerys took a shaky breath and nodded. “This is Jorah’s father,” she said, pointing at Jeor. “And this is Mary and Stan, our close friends,” she continued as she glanced in their direction before turning her attention back to the doctor. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of them.”

The doctor nodded and slowly took a seat as he glanced at each of them in turn. 

“We’ve run some tests to ascertain the cause of Mr Mormont’s collapse,” the doctor began, "I believe he’s been unwell the past few weeks?”

Daenerys nodded. “He’s had the flu.”

The doctor looked at her kindly. “Due to the head injury and seizure, we ran several tests including a CT scan and an MRI to try to find the root cause of the issue.”

“And?” Jeor said testily. “Spit it out.”

The doctor glanced at him, allowing the man’s anger to wash over him and letting the comment slide. Families of patients were never at their best when their concern for their loved one overshadowed their rational thinking.

“Has Mr Mormont been complaining of any headaches recently or any aches or pains that don’t seem to go away?”

Daenerys felt her bottom lip tremble and looked to Mary. It was clear by the look on the nurse’s face that she was already putting together an idea of what might be wrong with Jorah.

Daenerys nodded, stifling a sob.

“And how long has he had the cough for?” The doctor asked, noting something on the form he held.

“A while now,” Daenerys managed to say, her breath hitching as she prepared herself for what she knew would be bad news. “It’s back, isn’t it?” She asked, screwing her eyes shut. “The cancer. It’s come back.”

The way that the doctor was looking at her spoke volumes as she burst into tears. She vaguely felt Jeor pull her into his arms as the doctor confirmed her worst fears.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but the CT and MRI scans showed significant tumour growths in Mr Mormont’s lung and brain.”

“What stage?” Mary asked, her face ashen with shock. 

The doctor’s eyes briefly flitted to Daenerys before he answered. “We’re waiting for the results of some blood tests, but it would appear that a reoccurrence of Mr Mormont’s testicular cancer has resulted in secondary cancers in both the lung and brain.”

“How advanced are they?” Mary asked, her voice shaking as she clung to Stan’s hand.

“The tumour in the lung is potentially operable, but due to the size and area of the tumour in the brain, we wouldn’t be able to successfully remove it through surgical means. Initial results of the blood tests show that Mr Mormont’s cancer markers are also significantly raised…”

“In English, boy,” Jeor growled as Daenerys continued to cling to him.

“How long?” Daenerys asked quietly.

The doctor frowned. “I’m really not in a position to be able to give you that kind of information, I’m afraid. There’s no accurate way of knowing.”

“Please,” Daenerys pleaded, “I’m pregnant. I need to know if my husband will ever get to see his child.”

The doctor considered her words before answering. “There are options such as chemo and radiotherapy that can help slow the progression of the cancer, but even with successful treatment, the cancer is already fairly aggressive. Around 50% of people with this type of cancer survive past twelve months. It really depends on how much we can control the progression with various treatments and whether the cancer will respond to them in the way we hope.”

The doctor glanced at his notes before looking at Daenerys once more. “We’ll need to make a decision over the next few days as to how best to proceed. Your husband is conscious but groggy and he’s been asking to see you.”

Daenerys made to stand up but was stopped when the doctor raised his hand to stop her. 

“We need to clean and glue the wound on his head. I’ll send a nurse to bring you to him as soon as we’re done.”

Daenerys felt the air leave her in a rush as she collapsed into Jeor’s arms, hoping that she would soon wake from the nightmare she now found herself in.

* * *

Jorah spent the majority of Christmas in hospital and was finally discharged on Boxing Day after the doctor insisted he stay in for observation and to monitor the signs of the concussion he received when he hit his head in the bathroom.

Daenerys had been by his side as the doctors explained his prognosis as the effects of the concussion wore off. She held his hand tightly as he took in what the doctor had to say and what the next steps would be in terms of treatment options.

Daenerys felt her heart break all over again as Jorah quietly asked how much time he had left.

“Chemotherapy might slow it down?” Jorah had asked.

The doctor nodded in the affirmative.

“Then let’s do it,” Jorah had said with conviction as he squeezed his wife’s hand. “I’ll fight this with everything I have, I promise you,” he said to her as her bottom lip trembled. “Hey,” he said as he lifted her chin to look at him, “I’ve beaten this once, I’ll beat it again.”

“But the doctor said - “ she began.

“I promised I would never leave you,” he smiled as he ran a thumb tenderly over her cheek, wiping away the tear there. “This cancer is no match for my love for you. It doesn’t stand a chance.” 

Daenerys wished she could have believed him.

* * *

“I can call the meeting off,” Daenerys said, looking at her husband worriedly.

He shook his head. “There’s no need. Father’s going to take me,” Jorah replied, looking at Jeor. “You’ve been working toward getting this meeting for months now.“

Daenerys still looked uncertain. “I can cancel it. I don’t mind.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “I would mind,” he said softly. “I’ll be fine, I promise you.”

Jeor nodded his head. “He’s in good hands, you have my word.”

She felt her eyes begin to water as she looked at Jorah before leaning forward and kissing him deeply. “I’ll be here when you get back,” she said, resting her forehead against his in a gesture that had become second nature to them over the years. “I love you.”

He kissed her lips softly one last time. “I love you too. Now go to that meeting, ok?”

Jorah watched his wife leave and close the front door softly behind her before walking into the kitchen, looking for something to do. He needed something to take his mind off of what would happen today.

A little over a week since he collapsed, today Jorah would find himself back on the same cancer ward he’d been to just over three years ago. His mind was filled with the same dread as the first time he attended and yet this time he knew that the chances of the treatment making any difference would be slim at best.

But he’d told Daenerys that he would fight the cancer until his last breath, and he was a man of his word. She didn’t need to see how scared he was though. He needed to be strong for both her and their unborn child. The thought of not being there for either of them frightened him and the lack of control over his own fate began eating away at him as each day passed.

He would never give up fighting for her, but he would never tell her what it would cost for him to keep up the pretence that he was fine and that he could cope with what was to come.

Reaching for a glass, he filled it with water from the tap, hearing his father’s footsteps behind him.

“Daenerys was right about you,” Jeor said. “You’re a far stronger man than I am, son.”

Jorah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was dying and what he didn’t need was needless platitudes from a man who should have supported him long before any of this had ever happened.

“I don’t know how you’re handling this all so well - “

He threw the glass before he knew what he was doing. Jorah stared at his father in a state of shock, realising he only just missed the older man when the glass made contact with the wall behind him.

Jeor held his hands up, trying to placate his son’s anger. “It’s ok. I know you’re scared.”

Suddenly, every negative feeling he’d ever had about his father rose to the surface as Jorah grabbed him by his sweater and rammed him into the nearest wall.

Jeor felt his son’s forearm across his windpipe and knew that Jorah could cause him serious harm if he chose to. He could have fought back, but he let his son carry on regardless.

“You can hit me if you like,” Jeor said, knowing he could do nothing else to help his son. “If it’ll make you feel better, do it.”

Jeor stood pinned to the wall, waiting for the blow to come as his son stared at him, his breath coming in angry, shallow gasps. He watched as the anger slowly drained away and turned into abject sadness.

Pulling his son into his arms, he held him as the sobs wracked his body. “It’s ok,” he said, even though he knew it wasn’t. 

Jeor felt tears spring to his own eyes as he felt his son tremble in his arms.

“I don’t want to die,” Jorah sobbed as he clung to his father’s sweater. “I don’t want to leave them.”

Jeor felt his own heart break at how defeated his son sounded. “I know, son. I know.”

“Help me,” Jorah begged.

Jeor let out a sob of his own as he gripped his son tighter. “Oh, Jorah. I’d do anything to take this away from you if I could.”

“Please, Dad. I don’t want to die.”

It was the first time in decades that Jorah had called him that. How cruel a world that they would have to come to this point for him to finally say it.

What could he say?

What could he say to his son, whose time on earth was finite? 

What could he say to Daenerys, who would have to bring up their child alone?

Jeor knew there was nothing he could say that would make it any easier on any of them. 

There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that would make a difference. 

For the first time in his life, Jeor Mormont felt utterly powerless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me!


	33. Everybody Hurts

Jeor realised that there was no point in trying to cajole his son into any meaningful conversation. Jorah had been quiet and withdrawn since his outburst in the kitchen earlier in the day.

Once the tears had dried and the anger dissipated, Jorah looked like a broken shell of his former self. It took all of his strength to plaster on an air of confidence as he walked back into the treatment ward he’d hoped he would never see again.

Jeor knew that it was fortunate that Mary wasn’t on shift today. One look from her would be enough for his son to crumble all over again. Jorah barely held it together as the needle was inserted into his arm and even Jeor found himself having to look away at the procedure.

He ignored Jorah at every turn as his son tried to tell him that he would be fine on his own for the rest of the day, but Jeor refused to move from his side. He would be the pillar of strength that his son needed for the difficult time that lay ahead.

It caused an aching pain in Jeor’s own chest to watch the effects of the chemotherapy drugs take their toll on his son, knowing that the medication was as harmful as it was helpful. With little else to do in the days before, Jeor had read up as much as he could on cancer and the various treatments that were available.

With nothing else to keep him occupied, he’d watched over his son as the drugs took hold and Jorah drifted off to sleep in the deep chair, Jeor hoped that his presence alone was some sort of comfort to the man he should have shown such emotion to so many years ago.

The drive home was made in silence and although Jeor cast several anxious glances at the man sitting in the passenger seat, he said nothing. He knew his son to always have been a quiet and introspective kind of boy, especially after the death of his mother. Perhaps Jorah had inherited the Mormont family trait of brooding just like he had.

As Daenerys was quick to tell him, he and Jorah were far more alike than either of them would care to admit.

“We’re back,” Jeor said as he pulled the car up into the apartment complex and took the keys from the ignition. “Jorah?” He said, a little louder this time.

It took several moments, but Jorah finally shook his head as if to clear it before turning to his father, a look of confusion on his face.

Climbing out of the driver’s seat, Jeor walked to the passenger side and tried to help his son out of the car, only to find his hand being angrily shrugged off.

“I don’t need help,” the younger Mormont growled, seemingly aware of his surroundings once more.

Jeor let the comment slide, his son was hurting and he would take all the anger Jorah had to give, absorbing and internalising it if it meant that it made things a little easier for his boy.

By the time they reached the apartment, Jorah had fixed a smile on his face as he opened the front door and greeted Daenerys.

“How did it go?” She asked as Jorah shrugged his jacket off.

He gave her a tired smile, “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

She looked him up and down and then glanced to Jeor, looking for any sign that her husband might be lying to her.

Seemingly satisfied, she went back to the kitchen, returning shortly afterwards with a cup of peppermint tea which she handed to Jorah.

It was enough to make him let out a small chuckle, reminding him of the first time Daenerys had come to his apartment. He had made her the very same drink in an effort to settle her stomach after her own chemo treatment. The thoughtful gesture touched him deeply, especially when she handed him the box of crackers that she was concealing behind her back.

Jorah placed both the tea and the crackers on the coffee table. “I’m going to grab a shower,” he said as he kissed Daenerys on the side of the head. “I won’t be long.”

Jeor watched his son go, running a hand over his beard.

“How did it go, really?” Daenerys asked when Jorah was out of earshot.

Jeor knew that there would be no way that he could betray his son’s confidence. Daenerys was pregnant, she didn't need to know that her husband was barely managing to keep his emotions in check.

Jeor shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never been to one of those treatments before, so I’m not quite sure what I was expecting.”

“Was Mary there?” Daenerys asked, taking a seat on the couch.

Jeor shook his head.

“The first few sessions are always the hardest,” Daenerys said.

Jeor felt his heart sink. There were patients in the treatment room whose hair had fallen out, those whose faces looked sunken and gaunt. The same fate would await his son and it had been hard enough watching the pallor sinking into his boy’s skin as the drugs surged through his bloodstream today. He knew that it would only get worse.

“He mainly slept,” Jeor finally said. “I’m not sure if that’s normal.”

Daenerys nodded her head. “The chemo always hit him harder than it did me,” she said as she chewed on a fingernail. “They’re giving him more this time…it’ll probably knock him sideways.”

Jeor glanced down at her abdomen and the baby slowly growing inside her. “Promise me, love,” he said, swallowing thickly, “promise me that you’ll let me know when it gets too much. I want to help as much as I can.”

Daenerys felt her eyes fill with tears, knowing that there would come a point when she wouldn’t be able to cope on her own. Even if the chemo helped slow the cancer down, it would leave Jorah weaker than he’d ever been and as she grew heavier with their child, she would be limited in the physical support she could provide him.

Biting back on a sob, she nodded. “I will. I promise.”

* * *

Daenerys had been content to watch over Jorah as he slept on the sofa during the evening, knowing that today’s treatment would have taken a lot out of him.

It made her jump when he spoke quietly.

“How did the meeting go today?”

He sounded groggy and had likely just woken up.

She realised that she’d forgotten all about her meeting this morning and truth be told, she probably hadn’t given it her full attention while she was there. As much as she tried not to, her thoughts kept returning to Jorah and what he would be going through at the hospital.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I think it went ok. We’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose.”

He picked up on her lacklustre response and sat up straighter. “Did they give you the contract?”

She avoided his gaze. “They said they’d let me know.”

She didn’t want to tell him that she deliberately priced herself out of the job so that she could concentrate on looking after him. She knew that he would never allow her to sacrifice her career for him, even though he would have done the same for her in a heartbeat. It was as if he felt his life was worth less than hers, but if there was ever a time that he needed to come first, it was now.

She’d called Missy straight after the meeting and had broken down in tears as she told her best friend about Jorah’s diagnosis. Although Missy made all the right sounds, trying to reassure her that Jorah would fight the cancer and beat it, Daenerys herself was under no illusions that the chances of that happening were slim at best.

Even Jorah would not admit it and she wondered what it would take for him to be honest with her. Didn’t he realise by now that she could read him easily?

But wasn’t she doing exactly the same thing with him - pretending that last week’s news hadn’t knocked both of them for six?

After the doctor at the hospital had revealed the diagnosis, Daenerys took herself off to the bathroom and sobbed violently. After everything they had been through, fate was taking away the one thing she loved the most.

What had made it even worse was that she had no idea if it was months or years they had left. Either way, it broke her to realise that Jorah would likely never get to see his child marry or have children of their own.

How much longer would they tiptoe around each other, keeping up the pretence that the news hadn’t destroyed them both?

“Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t get it,” she said quietly.

“But you’ve been working so hard for this opportunity,” Jorah replied with a frown.

She shrugged, taking a sip of her peppermint tea. It was a small gesture, but she would drink and eat the same things as Jorah so that he didn’t feel as if he were going through the treatments all alone.

“It doesn’t matter, not really. Not with everything else that’s going on.”

“With me being sick, you mean?” He asked quietly.

She knew instinctively that he would feel guilty for something that he had no control over.

“And I’m pregnant. What happens when I’m too far along to be able to work?” She argued. “I want us to spend as much time as we can together.”

He ran a hand over his face and let out a deep sigh. “I told you I’d fight this. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he tried to reassure her.

“Stop lying to me!”

The way Daenerys had shouted at him caught Jorah off guard. He’d rarely, if ever, heard her raise her voice.

“Stop telling me what you think I want to hear and just be honest with me!”

Jorah opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his lips.

“It might be months or years, but you’re leaving me, Jorah.”

Her voice was so small and timid.

He felt his bottom lip tremble. “I don’t want to go. I don't want to leave you.”

She held his face in her hands and brought their foreheads together.

“I know…but we don’t get a choice in this.”

Tears streamed down his face and he finally admitted the truth to her. “I’m so scared…I want to stay with you…with our baby. I don’t want to die.”

Daenerys held him in her arms as he sobbed. Jorah Mormont had bravely fought on the battlefield and faced down horrors that no man should ever have had to. He was a soldier, used to confronting an enemy head on and had never lost a battle until now.

This enemy wasn’t something that could be seen or encountered. It wound slowly and insidiously behind his defences, leaving him uncertain of its next attack. He’d faced down women and children with bombs and guns strapped to their backs and had never felt this scared.

The sands of time and his own future were running through his hands faster than he could stop them. He knew that one day, maybe months or years from now, his time would run out and he would have no choice but to leave his wife and child behind, knowing that he’d broken his promise to never abandon them.

That thought, above all else, was the one that broke him.


	34. Save A Place For Me

As the weeks passed and the chemo treatments took hold, it left Jorah feeling weaker and sicker than he ever had before.

The doctors told him that they would try to attack the cancer cells with higher doses of the treatment than he’d previously experienced and although he’d braced himself for the onslaught, he hadn’t been prepared for just how ill it would make him.

By the third treatment, he’d been admitted to the hospital overnight to allow his body time to recover from the side effects of the medication and even though he’d argued with the doctors and pleaded with Mary, they had been resolute in their position that his stay in hospital was necessary.

Daenerys stayed with him throughout and kept him company, holding his hand as the cramps and nausea took effect. The discomfort so severe that he even agreed to the pain relief despite the fear that his demons would return for him during his sleep. It seemed ironic that while Daenerys grew larger with their child, he seemed to be shrinking and wasting away before their eyes.

The plan had been for six weeks of intense chemotherapy treatment to try to slow the progression of the disease that was slowly eating away at his body. His last treatment had been two weeks ago and both he and Daenerys had been relieved when it was finally over, although they knew even if the treatment had been successful Jorah would face several more gruelling rounds of chemotherapy in the hopes that it would prolong his life.

They put all thoughts of further treatment aside as they sat in the same room as they had eight weeks ago for their baby’s first scan. They had been fortunate that the same sonographer was carrying out today’s scan too.

Jorah didn’t miss the brief worried glance the sonographer shot him as she took in his gaunt appearance. His hair had begun falling out shortly after the second treatment and he’d taken to wearing the hat again any time that he ventured outside their apartment.

Daenerys had been wary of letting him go anywhere on his own once the chemo started taking effect on him, but he’d managed to slip out a couple of times to meet with Olenna. Now that his life had an expiration date, he wanted to get his affairs in order as he knew there would come a time when he would no longer be able to do so.

Then sonographer applied the gel and began the scan as Daenerys and Jorah looked on nervously.

The sonographer smiled. “There they are,” she said as the screen showed the outline of their unborn child. The thump, thump, thump of their baby’s heartbeat brought a tear to Jorah’s eye. “Would you like to know if you’re having a boy or a girl?’

Daenerys looked at Jorah. “We’ve talked about it and decided that we want to know.”

Not looking up from her work, the sonographer answered them. “I hope you both like pink.”

Jorah kissed his wife’s head, unashamed of the tears rolling down his face. “We’re having a little girl?”

The sonographer nodded. “Have you chosen a name yet?”

Daenerys wiped away the tears on her own face. “We’re going to call her Poppy.”

The sonographer smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.”

When the chemotherapy treatments left Jorah bed-bound for days, they had plenty of time to discuss names for their child. Daenerys suggested the name Poppy for a girl, not only because she liked the sound of it, but it also symbolised the sacrifice men like Jorah had made for their country. Men and women who had risked or given their own lives to protect the innocent and the weak. Poppies were a sign of peace - something that Jorah had long struggled to find in his own life until he’d met her.

Rubbing off the gel with a paper towel, the sonographer looked at the expectant parents. “Poppy is developing well, she’s got a good, strong heartbeat. Everything is looking exactly as it should at this stage of the pregnancy.”

Jorah and Daenerys looked at each other, letting out a sigh of relief simultaneously. The last ten weeks had been horrific and with nothing but bad news being thrown at them. To know that their unborn child was healthy brought a ray of sunshine into what had been a tumultuous few months.

* * *

In the weeks that followed their baby’s second scan, Jorah’s appetite appeared to improve somewhat now that the chemotherapy drugs were leaving his system. Yet no matter how hard he tried to hide it, Daenerys could tell that he was in considerable pain from the cancer that was eating away at his body.

There were days when the pain in his head was so bad that it had brought him to tears. Daenerys could do nothing but hold him in her arms as he fought against the pain that seemed to thrum through his body with every rhythmic beat of his heart.

The seizures caused by the tumour in his brain had become more frequent over the last week or so and while their duration was usually relatively short, the powerful way that they took control over every aspect of her husband’s body frightened her and left him weak and exhausted for hours afterwards.

Four weeks after his last dose of chemo treatment, Jorah and Daenerys found themselves sitting in the same waiting room they’d already been in several times before. 

Where there had been a sense of hope the last time they were here, Jorah couldn’t help but think that they would not be fortunate enough to receive positive news this time around.

There was no way he could deny that his body had begun failing him. He no longer had the energy or inclination to do half the things he used to and one look at his gaunt and pale frame was enough to tell anyone that he was far from well.

His broad muscles had all but faded away and left nothing more than skin and bones in their wake. Even Thoros, a man so used to saying what he thought, had held back on commenting on his former commanding officer’s appearance the last time he’d seen him.

Making their way into the specialist’s room, Jorah took a deep breath and braced himself for the news that would define the next few months of his life - it would either mean further gruelling chemo treatments or a painful last few months as the cancer spread throughout his already weary body.

The look on the specialist’s face told Jorah everything he needed to know.

“I’ll come straight to the point, Mr Mormont,” the specialist said as he looked up from the open folder on his desk. “It seems as if the chemotherapy treatments have had a negligible effect on the tumours and the latest scans show a new growth in your pancreas. The blood tests show similar results.”

Even though he’d been expecting the worst, to actually hear it verbalised took his breath away painfully. He heard Daenerys stifle a sob and felt her clutch his hand tighter.

Jorah cleared his throat. “How long?”

“With another round of chemotherapy - “

Jorah cut the man off. “It hasn’t worked this time, there’s no point if it’s not making a difference. How long do I have?”

The specialist shifted awkwardly in his chair. “It’s not clear cut and so I can’t give you an accurate answer to that - “

Jorah gritted his teeth, trying to keep a lid on his growing frustration. “You’re an oncologist. Give me your professional opinion. How long do I have…months….years?”

The doctor took a deep breath. “Months, in my opinion…but I can’t be certain.”

Jorah stood, shook the doctor’s hand and made to leave. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”

* * *

It didn’t surprise Jorah to find his father, Mary and Stan waiting at their apartment when he and Daenerys returned from their appointment at the hospital.

They all looked at him so hopefully and it was at that point that Daenerys finally broke down in tears, flinging herself into Mary’s arms as she sobbed loudly.

“Oh Christ, no,” Jorah heard his father whisper.

His father wrapped him in a strong embrace before he’d even had time to realise what was happening and suddenly Jorah felt the fight go out of him as he clung to his father, crying out the tears of frustration, fear and pain that he’d been holding in for weeks.

With nothing else to do, Stan busied himself in the kitchen making coffee. It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to be doing, making coffee while his friend’s life was falling down around him, but maybe a small bit of normality was needed in extraordinary times like this.

Taking the tray back into the lounge, Stan was relieved to find that the tearful embraces had stopped. He placed the tray on the table, suddenly feeling as if he were encroaching on a private moment as the four other people looked at him slightly dumbfounded.

“I’m no good at the sympathy side, but tea and coffee…I’m good at making that,” he shrugged awkwardly.

Jorah smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Stan. Thank you.”

The five of them sat in silence for a while, the only sound being that of the room’s inhabitants sipping quietly on their coffee.

It was Jorah who finally spoke.

“The chemotherapy hasn’t worked and so I…” he paused for a moment and looked at Daenerys, “we’ve decided not to go through it again. I want to make the most of whatever time I have left… I don’t want to spend it being so sick that I can’t even get out of bed.”

“How long?” Jeor asked, his voice unusually quiet and timid.

Jorah looked at his father forlornly. “Months,” he replied, feeling a stab of pain at his father’s stricken expression. It was then that he addressed everyone in the room. “There’s going to come a point soon where I won’t be able to say the things I need to, so I’m going to say them now.”

Jorah paused when he heard Mary’s sharp intake of breath.

“I just want to say thank you, to all of you, for everything that you’ve done for me. I really wish that this wasn’t happening, but I can’t deny that I’ve been blessed to have you in my life and when the time…” Jorah stopped suddenly as tears pricked at his eyes, he cleared his throat again, “when the time comes, there’s no one else I’d want by my side than you. I know I have no right to ask…” he paused again as he wiped at the tears on his face, “…but please…promise me you’ll look after Daenerys and Poppy for me…promise me you’ll take care of them…when….when I can’t anymore.”

Jorah felt his wife cling to him as she sobbed once more and he held her tightly, knowing that the day would soon come, when he would no longer be able to protect her from this cruel world that had given them so much only to take it away again so soon.


	35. If Tomorrow Never Comes

After carrying the cases into the small cottage on the loch, Jeor patted his son on the shoulder.

“I’ll be back on Monday to pick you up.”

Despite his protests, Jeor refused to listen to his son’s pleas that he could drive himself and Daenerys to the cottage. With the seizures becoming more frequent, there was no way that Jeor would risk the lives of his son, Daenerys and their unborn child should the worst happen and a seizure take him while behind the wheel of a car.

After taking time to assimilate the devastating news about his prognosis, Jorah had suggested to Daenerys that they draw up a list of things they wanted to do with the time he had left. Top of their list had been to come back to the cottage where they’d proposed to each other nearly three years ago.

It was ironic that they had both seemed so full of hope for the future back then. Both of them had been cancer-free and were looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together. Neither of them knew just how short that time would be. Would they have done things differently if they had?

Hindsight was useless when your days were already numbered and Jorah had sworn to himself that he would not use the time he had left wallowing in self-pity. His time was almost up and it was up to him to make the most of it.

Already sensing that the treatments would not work, Jorah set most of his affairs in order with the help of Olenna Tyrell and a few solicitors that she recommended. It was important to him that Daenerys and Poppy would want for nothing for the rest of their lives. He would be leaving them, but he would do everything in his power to make sure that their lives were comfortable and free from the worry and burden of money.

It was difficult to break the news to Beric and Thoros and each man reacted in their own unique way - Thoros by getting blind drunk and raging at the world and Beric by grimly nodding his head and taking himself away to collect his emotions in the stoic way he was famed for.

Beric had been only too happy to lend his friend the family cottage when asked and had offered to drive Jorah and Daenerys there and pick them back up again. Jorah had politely declined, he couldn’t bear to see the strained look on Beric’s face, knowing that the man wanted to tell him something he ultimately didn’t want to hear. Platitudes and talk of honour and bravery meant nothing when the enemy you were fighting refused to discriminate when it came to its victims. Rich or poor, good or bad, brave or craven - cancer didn’t care who you were or where you’d been, it didn’t care if you were an angel or the devil itself, when your cards were marked, it would come for you and take you anyway.

Letting themselves into the cottage, Jorah saw a note on the kitchen table. He picked it up and read it.

_Captain,_

_I’ve taken care of the meals for you this weekend. Everything you need is in the fridge and freezer, all you need to do is heat it up and I’m fairly sure even you can’t fuck that up._

_Thoros._

Although he wanted to growl at Thoros for babying him, Jorah had to chuckle when he read the note. It was typical Thoros, with every kind deed came an equally salty insult. Much like himself, Thoros had never been one for talking about his emotions or relating to other people - he preferred actions to words and when resorting to the latter, he always tempered them with a stinging retort in the effort to keep people at a distance, never letting them get too close to the real man behind the bravado and bonhomie.

“Well, that’s dinner sorted, at least,” Jorah said as he passed the note to Daenerys.

Much like she could read her husband, Daenerys could see through Thoros just as easily.

“It’s his way of showing he cares,” she said quietly as she cradled her ever-growing bump. “It’s not easy for him to say how he feels.”

Jorah nodded his head as he sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. “I know people mean well…but sometimes it just makes me feel worse…” 

“How so?” She asked, joining him at the table and taking hold of his hand.

He ran his free hand over his face roughly. “I can see what this is doing to them… to my father… to you, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it. You’re all suffering because of me.”

Daenerys found that her husband’s insistence that he didn’t matter drove her to anger at times. How could he think of others when it was he who was dying?

“What about you?” She shot back. “I can see how much pain you’re in and there’s nothing I can do to stop it!”

Shocked by her sudden outburst, he tried to placate her. “It’s only temporary, there will come a point when I won’t even feel it anymore.”

Tears were streaming down her face now. “But I will. I’ll feel it every day for the rest of my life because you won’t be here with me!”

He gathered her in his arms and tried to soothe her, yet the strength he once had was fading quickly.

“You promised you’d never leave me, Jorah. You promised me!”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he held her close.

It seemed like such a trivial thing to say. What good would sorry do on the cold and lonely nights when she was bringing up their child alone? 

What good was sorry when Poppy fell over and skinned her knee for the first time? 

What good was sorry when he wouldn’t be there to protect his daughter from boys who wanted to break her heart?

Maybe he was sorry for ever putting Daenerys through any of this in the first place. Maybe he should have stopped after that first kiss in his bathroom all those years ago. Daenerys was younger than him, she had more of her life left to live than he did and above all else, she deserved to be happy.

And what had he done?

He’d resigned her to a life of a single parent, bringing up their daughter alone with nothing but memories to sustain her through those long, cold winter nights and all due to his own selfishness.

These thoughts and so many more had swirled around his head these past few weeks and had he been given the choice to change the past, he knew his selfish heart would never be overruled by his rational mind. Even though he knew the cost, he would choose Daenerys every single time. No matter the heartache or pain it would cause them both, he would choose her. 

He would always choose her.

* * *

They spent the day walking the same trail as the last time they’d been here, when Jorah had planned to propose to her by the loch and the rain suddenly intervened. It hadn’t taken them long to get there last time, but Jorah’s stamina was slowly failing him and they stopped frequently to allow him to catch his breath and enjoy a picnic in the warm Spring weather before returning to the cottage.

Just by glancing at him, Daenerys could tell that the day had taken a lot out of Jorah and guided him to the bedroom shortly after dinner.

“Wait,” he said as she made to turn down the duvet.

She looked at him quizzically.

He took a deep breath and looked at her intently. “I’m getting weaker every day and soon I won’t be able to be a proper husband to you.”

She knew what he was trying to say and interrupted him with a kiss, much like he had her when she’d frozen at his touch several Christmases ago. “It’s ok, it doesn’t matter.”

He took a step back. “It does to me. If this is it…if this is the last time…I want it to be here. Just you and me. I just want to pretend…for one night…that this isn’t happening.”

She could see the tears in his eyes and could tell how much it meant to him, to love her one last time while he still had the chance. 

“But you’re in so much pain - “

He screwed his eyes shut and let out a deep breath. “I don’t care. I just want to hold you…one last time. Surely the world owes us that at least?”

She answered him with a kiss before taking his hand and leading him to the bed. If tonight was all they had, they would spend it showing each other their love for one another, the rest of the world be damned.

* * *

Daenerys woke early the next morning with memories of last night still fresh in her mind as she nestled closer to her husband who was still deeply asleep.

She could tell how much pain Jorah was in and so she insisted on taking the lead in their lovemaking. It was sweet and slow and although she wanted the moment to last forever, she knew it would never been enough to sustain her through the many cold nights to come when he was no longer with her.

He was growing weaker by the day and it was destroying her to watch the man she loved slowly fade away before her eyes. He was leaving her and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Daenerys knew it was unfair to blame Jorah for leaving her. She knew, deep down, that he had no choice in the matter. He’d fought with everything he had so far and he would continue to fight for her and their unborn child until his last breath.

It had always been one of the things she loved most about him - his absolute commitment to her and their life together. Long after many other men would have fallen and given up, Jorah continued to fight against the disease that was slowly killing him. Each time the cancer brought him to his knees, he would breathe deeply and force himself back to his feet - for love, for her.

There would come a time soon when even his love for her and their child would not be enough to keep him standing. The time would come when his spirit could no longer sustain his mortal body and he would be taken from her far too soon.

After so much fear and betrayal in her life, Jorah had been the one to show her true and unconditional love. Never once did he demand anything more than she was willing to give. He built his life around her and showed her how beautiful it could be when you have the love of someone who would do anything for you.

Would she have chosen this path if she’d known how short the road would be? 

Jorah had given her the chance to walk away after their first kiss with both of them knowing their futures were uncertain. She knew, without a doubt, that he was her future and that somehow they had always been destined to meet and love one another.

She jumped head-first into a relationship with him and never regretted a single day of it, even now when the pain of losing him was almost more than she could bear. Although the pain was slowly killing her, she would not have traded the past few years for anything.

No matter the cost, no matter the pain, life after life she would choose him.

She would always choose him.


	36. Father and Son

As the weeks passed, Daenerys grew heavier with their child while Jorah became steadily weaker as the disease ravaged every area of his body, making him so frail that getting out of bed without assistance was beginning to be a problem. It had been at that point that Jeor had insisted he move into their apartment to help. 

He gave his son and wife little choice in the matter, knowing that the only other option would be for Jorah to move into some sort of assisted living facility in order to meet his daily needs. With no other acceptable alternative, Jorah and Daenerys acquiesced and agreed that he could move into their spare bedroom.

Sensing that she needed a break, Jeor ushered Daenerys from the apartment this morning and was helped by Missandei’s surprise visit to Edinburgh. Both he and Jorah insisted that Daenerys spend the day shopping with her best friend. At eight months pregnant, she would soon run out of opportunities to be able to do such things.

Jorah spent more time in bed as the days passed and turned into weeks. Jeor was under no illusion that between the disease and the high doses of pain relief his son had been prescribed, those two factors alone turned his brave, strong boy into the shell of the man before him.

How he wished he could take his son’s pain away and to take his place. After everything Jorah had been through, it didn’t seem fair that life had dealt him such a cruel blow. Jeor would have gladly taken the cancer on as his own, knowing that it would bring him back to the wife he had lost so many years ago. Jorah had his whole life ahead of him and Jeor knew that he would never forgive the gods, old and new, for cutting his son’s life so short.

He managed to find a way to keep himself busy most days while trying to be as inconspicuous as possible in his presence within the apartment. He mainly stayed in the bedroom they’d given him and only ventured out at meal times or when his company was requested by his son and wife.

He had been reading quietly for an hour or so when he heard a crashing noise from the bathroom. Throwing the book down on the bed, he rushed to the bathroom to find his son lying haphazardly on the floor.

“Get out,” Jorah growled.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jeor said taking a step closer to his son.

“I said get out!” Jorah screamed as his cheeks flushed with shame.

It was then that Jeor’s eyes fell upon the source of his boy’s humiliation. The jogging bottoms Jorah wore were soaked around the groin.

Refusing to be deterred by his son’s anger, Jeor remained silent as he turned on the bath taps before lifting his son to the toilet and settling him down on its lid.

“Please,” Jorah begged. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Again, Jeor said nothing. Checking that the bath was at an adequate temperature, he silently helped his son to remove his sodden clothes before helping him to the bath.

“I’m sorry,” Jorah whispered, tears running down his face as he sat forlornly in the bath.

In all the years he had known his son, he’d never seen him look so small and defeated.

“It’s ok, son. No harm done.”

Holding his son’s thin frame in his arms as his boy wept, Jeor kicked himself for all the times he messed up. How many times had his son needed him and he’d brushed him off with a callous remark?

He had never been the father that Jorah had needed him to be. Not once had he comforted his boy when he needed it the most and yet here they were, almost fifty years later and he realised all too late what he should have done so many years ago.

Picking up the washcloth, he ran the soapy water over his son’s body, knowing that he should have done so when Jorah was a boy instead of leaving it to nannies and childminders to do the job for him.

Not once had he ever washed his boy’s hair and yet he did now, rubbing the liquid over his scalp and washing it out with a gentleness he’d long since considered lost to him. It had taken the death of his beloved wife to harden him and the impending loss of his only son to soften those edges once more.

He cursed himself for all the times life had tried to show him what had been clearly staring him in the face. Yet each time fate tried to teach him, he turned his eyes away and ignored the signs, refusing to let this old dog be taught new tricks.

And so fate dealt him the cruellest blow. Fate would show him what he had lost to fear and resentment so many years ago, it would show him the life he could have had, he should have had, if only he’d put his damn foolish pride to one side and listened.

Sensing he would soon run out of time to say it, Jeor cleared his throat and looked his weary boy in the eyes. 

“I love you, son.”

* * *

After lifting Jorah from the bath and drying him off, Jeor selected a new set of clothes and helped him to dress before returning him to the comfort of his bed. They were both men of few words and the look that passed between them spoke volumes.

Knowing what his son was asking, he nodded and took the damp clothes to the washing machine, turning it on and the returning to his side, frowning when he saw the look of discomfort on his boy’s face.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Jeor asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Jorah looked at his father and nodded solemnly. “Please, you can’t tell Daenerys. She doesn’t need the stress,” he pleaded.

“You need more help with the pain. Let me call Mary.”

Jorah shook his head. “I don’t want to spend what little time I have left out of my head. I can deal with the pain.”

Jeor ran a hand through what was left of his greying hair. “I don’t know what to do to help you, son.”

He saw his son’s bottom lip tremble. “Before I go…” he stopped as he wiped at the tears on his face. “I want to hold my daughter in my arms…I can’t leave without seeing her. I need you to help me…help me hold on until she’s born.”

Jeor realised that tears were running down his own face as he held his son’s hand tightly. He had always been brought up to think that tears were a sign of weakness, but at that point he couldn’t have cared less what anyone thought of them.

Pulling his son’s frail body close to his own, he held him tightly. “ I promise, son. I promise I’ll help you.”

* * *

Hours must have passed as before Jeor knew it, he heard the front door open and Daenerys return. He realised he must have fallen asleep with Jorah in his arms. The last thing he remembered had been singing old songs to his boy as he held him, trying his best to take the pain away so that he could rest peacefully.

He was trying to gently disengage from Jorah when Daenerys walked into the room. She looked tired and drawn, but smiled as she took in the image before her.

“There’s no need to get up,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed awkwardly. Her large abdomen was making sitting and standing increasingly more difficult as each day passed. “How long has he been asleep?” She asked, running a hand through Jorah’s hair.

Jeor rubbed at his own face. “A few hours, I think.”

Sensing something was wrong, Daenerys frowned at her father-in-law. “Has everything been ok?” She asked.

Jeor gave her a tired smile. “Everything’s been fine, pet. I guess I must have bored Jorah to sleep with the tales of our forefathers.”

Daenerys still didn’t look convinced. “You’d tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Jeor lied. 

He would not betray his son’s trust and tell her what had happened while she’d been gone.

Gently removing himself from the bed, Jeor stood and made his way to the bathroom. “Let me run you a bath, you must be tired after all that shopping.”

There was little more he could do for his son now that he’d fallen asleep, but the least he could do was take care of his daughter-in-law with her due date fast approaching. He only hoped that whatever help or strength he could give to his son would be enough to sustain him and help keep his promise that he would hold his newborn daughter in his arms before he took his final breath.


	37. The Drugs Don't Work

With less than a week to go before Daenerys’ due date, Jorah’s health began to decline rapidly.

Unable to keep down any solid food, it had been a trial to keep him hydrated when much of what he drank inevitably came back up again. The tumour growing in his lung made breathing more difficult with each day that passed and it was clear that his time was quickly running out.

“We need to call Mary and get him taken into hospital,” Jeor said as he watched a heavily-pregnant Daenerys cling to her husband’s thin hand.

She shook her head, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down her face.

“No, I want him to pass away here…in our bed.”

Jeor knew that his son would probably not survive the next twenty-four hours without proper medical assistance. With no other choice, he told Daenerys the truth.

“I made a promise to him,” he said, his breath hitching as he looked down at his boy. “I promised him that I’d help him hold on long enough to see his daughter.” Tears were streaming down his own face now. “Please,” he pleaded with her, “please don’t make me break my promise. All I’ve done is let him down. I’m begging you, Daenerys.”

Looking down at her frail husband, Daenerys nodded her head.

Twenty minutes after placing the call, Mary arrived with her kit in hand and began taking Jorah’s vitals, all the while talking softly to him.

“He needs more help than we can give him here,” she confirmed as she pulled her mobile phone out to make a call, having already spoken to Jeor about his son’s wishes for his final days.

As Mary left the room to make the call, Daenerys turned to her father in law. “It’s happening, isn’t it?” She said, leaning into his warm embrace. “He’s dying, isn’t he?”

* * *

Jorah had been semi-conscious when the paramedics arrived to transport him to the hospital but suddenly became more aware when the ambulance pulled away. Unsure of his surroundings, he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar face above him.

Unaware of what was happening, he pulled weakly at the blanket holding his arms to his body and the straps that secured him to the stretcher. His already laboured breathing becoming even more erratic as his panic increased.

“Hey, it’s ok,” the female paramedic said, shifting slightly to reveal Daenerys sitting behind her. “Your wife’s here. We’re just taking you to the hospital to make you a little more comfortable, ok?”

“I’m here,” Daenerys sobbed. “I won’t leave you, I promise.” She felt a twinge in her abdomen as she looked at the man she loved slowly closing his eyes and drifting into unconsciousness once more.

The drive to the Royal Edinburgh Infirmary was relatively short and once Mary explained the situation to her colleagues in the Triage department, Daenerys and Jeor were allowed to stay with Jorah while the doctors and nurses decided on the best course of treatment for him as they inserted tubes into his body and hooked him up to all sorts of monitors and pieces of machinery. With the oxygen mask on his face, he was able to breathe easier at least.

Before long, Jorah was transferred to the intensive care unit and there was nothing more any of them could do except wait.

* * *

Daenerys and Jeor sat either side of Jorah’s bed, saying little yet exchanging worried glances each time Jorah’s breathing became more laboured. He had been semi-conscious at times and although not fully aware of his surroundings he at least seemed to know that they were there with him.

The painful twinges that Daenerys had felt earlier began making their presence known over the last few hours. Mary joined them in their bedside vigil and noticed the sudden change in Daenerys’ demeanour.

“Let’s take you home, love,” Mary said, holding a hand out to help Daenerys up. “You need to get some rest.”

Daenerys shook her head. “I can’t.”

Mary let out a tired sigh. “You need to take care of yourself and the baby.”

“No, I mean I can’t” Daenerys replied, more insistent this time as she glanced at the puddle of water on the floor. “I think the baby’s coming.”

* * *

Time seemed to pass in a blur for Daenerys as she was rushed back down to the A&E department who confirmed that her waters had broken and that she was now in labour. She was then rushed to a birthing suite and she begged Mary not to leave her as the pain of the contractions got steadily worse.

“How long?” Daenerys asked through gritted teeth as another contraction took her.

Mary held her hand as Daenerys gripped tighter with the pain. “How long have you been feeling the contractions, hen?”

Daenerys let out a pained breath. “Since this morning.”

Mary patted her hand reassuringly. “Probably only a few hours then,” she replied as a midwife came into the room and looked under the bedsheet.

“You’re fully dilated, Mrs Mormont,” the midwife smiled. “When you feel the next contraction I need you to push as hard as you can, ok?”

* * *

A pained groan caught Jeor’s attention. He looked down to find that Jorah had opened his eyes and was trying to remove the oxygen mask from his face.

“Easy, son,” Jeor said, placing Jorah’s hand back down on the bed and readjusting the oxygen mask.

“Daenerys?” Jorah gasped, his breathing increasingly noisy and laboured.

Jeor smiled. “She’s gone into labour.”

Despite the pain he was in and the drugs he was being administered, Jeor knew that Jorah would never forget the reason he was here.

“Poppy?” Jorah said weakly, his clouded eyes full of hope.

“Aye. She’s on her way, son,” Jeor replied. “Just keep squeezing my hand and hold on, she’ll be here soon.”

Jeor prayed to every god he’d ever known that Jorah would hang on long enough to hold her in his arms.

* * *

The hours seemed to tick by slowly as Daenerys pushed as hard as she could with each contraction. With every minute that passed, she knew Jorah was one step closer to leaving her. She could only pray that he could hold on long enough to see his newborn child.

“One final big push,” the midwife encouraged and with a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Daenerys pushed with everything she had, her scream of pain turning to a sob of joy as she heard her daughter’s first cries as she entered the world.

Daenerys wanted to take her in her arms immediately and panicked when the midwife took Poppy to the corner of the room and turned her back on them.

“She’s just checking that everything is ok with the baby,” Mary reassured her.

“But we need to go…Jorah…” Daenerys said, trying to regain her breath.

Mary patted her hand. “You need to pass the placenta and that’ll give the nurses time to check Poppy out. We’ll get you both to him as soon as we can, I promise.”

Fifteen minutes after hearing her daughter’s first cries, Daenerys had the unpleasant experience of passing the placenta and after being cleaned up, she was adamant that she and Mary return to the intensive care unit as soon as possible.

It seemed like the elevators were plotting against them and with each minute that passed, Daenerys became more agitated that they would not make it back to Jorah in time. Sat in a wheelchair and with her baby in her arms, she could do nothing but wait as they made their slow ascent to Jorah’s bedside.

Upon entering the room where her husband lay, Daenerys found her father-in-law in exactly the same position she’d left him several hours ago, although he looked considerably more drawn and tired than he had earlier in the day.

Mary wheeled Daenerys to her husband’s bedside and watched on tearfully as the young woman sobbed.

“Jorah,” she whispered, using the hand not holding their baby to caress his face.

He opened his eyes halfway and smiled behind the oxygen mask covering the lower half of his face.

“I’ve got someone here to see you,” Daenerys said, gently placing Poppy on her father’s chest, taking one of Jorah’s shaky arms to cradle their child.

“Poppy,” he gasped, his breath wheezing and laboured.

Poppy had begun crying when removed from her mother’s arms, yet stopped instantly as her father held her for the first time. Only an hour or so old, Poppy opened her eyes and stared at her father, burbling as her tiny hand grabbed one of his fingers.

As weak as he was, Jorah smiled as he held his daughter close to his chest, his eyes closing slowly as he took several noisy breaths until finally his chest stilled.

Reaching over, Mary placed her fingers on Jorah’s neck, shaking her head as she looked at Jeor mournfully. She carefully lifted Poppy into her grandfather’s arms and it was only then that it dawned on Daenerys at that her husband was gone.

Not caring about the pain it caused, Daenerys launched herself from her wheelchair, running her hands over her husband’s face, begging him not to leave her before burying her head on his chest as she sobbed painfully, unwilling to let him go and knowing that if she did so, it would confirm what she already knew to be true.

He had left her.

* * *

There was nothing Mary or Jeor could do to console Daenerys as she wept over her husband’s body, although Mary knew that the hospital staff would soon need to take Jorah’s body away.

Mary had warned the hospital staff off several times already with a stern look, but it seemed that this time they would not be deterred.

She placed her hands on Daenerys’ shoulders. “Daenerys, they have to take him now.”

Daenerys shook her head furiously. “No!”

“They have to take him, hen.”

“No!” She repeated, “I won’t leave him.”

Jeor stepped in and gently guided her away from his son’s body. “They’ll take good care of him, sweetheart.” Jeor shot the hospital staff a glare to underlie his intent. “We have to let him go now.”

“I can’t,” Daenerys sobbed. “I can’t let him go.”

Jeor held her tightly as tears ran down his own face. 

“I know sweetheart. I know.”


	38. Stop All the Clocks, Cut Off the Telephone

Had it not been for Poppy, Jeor feared that Daenerys would have succumbed to her grief and followed Jorah soon after his passing.

But with a newborn baby to nurse, a baby that was entirely dependent on her mother for her most basic needs, Daenerys had been given something to focus on. Yet nothing would fill the hole that Jorah had left in her life.

With Daenerys barely able to function, the funeral arrangements had been left to Jeor and with the help of Beric and Missy, they had finally come to an agreement as to what it was that Jorah would have wanted.

Each time they raised the subject with Daenery she broke down, sobbing and wailing for the loss of her husband. The three of them agreeing that allowing Daenerys to grieve in her own time would be for the best and that her priority should be caring for Poppy.

Jeor had been grateful for the support of Missy, who seemed to be the only person who could reach Daenerys through her grief. With Jorah gone, there was no one else who knew Daenerys better than her.

Putting his own grief to one side, Jeor had thrown himself into the funeral arrangements in an attempt to take his mind off of the painful truth - his only son had died.

There would be time to face the truth later, but for now the only thing that mattered was giving his son the kind of funeral he deserved.

Three weeks after his passing, the day of the funeral had finally arrived and all too soon for those who had known and loved Jorah Mormont.

Jeor could do nothing but hold Daenerys’ hand in the funeral car as Missy held her other hand. Dressed in black, Daenerys struggled to keep her emotions in check as their vehicle followed the hearse in which her husband now lay.

Pulling up outside the church, Jeor had been shocked to see just how many people stood outside, many in their military dress uniforms. Over a hundred people, their heads hanging low in mourning as the hearse opened.

Nodding to Thoros and Beric, Jeor made his way over to them and with the help of the ushers, lifted the coffin from the vehicle, balancing it on his shoulder as they walked arm in arm into the church.

Jeor was aware that Thoros had not taken the news of Jorah’s passing well and had already lost himself in dozens of bottles of whiskey as he battled to come to terms with the truth. Thoros had at least had the respect and fortitude not to arrive at the funeral drunk and for that Jeor was thankful.

Jeor felt tears sting at his eyes as they reached the altar all too soon, the coffin seeming far too small for his son’s imposing figure. How could a life so large fit into a box so small?

Somehow it didn’t seem right. None of this was right. No father should ever have to bury their child.

The funeral seemed to pass in a surreal blur and it wasn’t until Missy stood and made her way to the front of the church that Jeor seemed to come back to his senses.

“Thank you all for coming here today,” Missy began, her voice catching as she swallowed thickly. “Daenerys has asked me to read the following poem.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,   
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,   
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum   
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. 

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead   
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,   
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,   
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

He was my North, my South, my East and West,   
My working week and my Sunday rest,   
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;   
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. 

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;   
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;   
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;   
For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

Jeor took Daenerys’ hand once more as the finality of losing his son began to sink in. Had it not been for Poppy, he knew that Jorah’s death would have destroyed her. The words of the poem spoke plainly of the loss and sorrow she was still struggling to come to terms with.

The somber crowd of guests hung their heads mournfully as Missy made her way back to Daenerys’ side and wrapped her arms around the sobbing woman.

It was then Beric’s turn to address the mourners. Dressed in a black suit, white shirt and black tie, Beric fiddled nervously with the sheets of paper in his hands.

“The last time I stood in front of a group of people to talk about Captain Mormont, it was a much happier time. Daenerys and the Captain were celebrating their first day of married life and never have I seen the man look happier and more content than he did that day.

Captain Mormont was by far the bravest man I have ever met and just like every battle before, he fought valiantly against the cancer. Unfortunately it was one battle too many and his time on this earth has been cut cruelly short.”

Beric stopped to clear his throat and blink away the tears in his eyes.

“I have never met a braver, more courageous and honourable man. However, he was a cheating bastard when it came to playing cards.”

The comment earned a small ripple of laughter from the congregation.

“I hope the gods will forgive me for saying this…but I cannot, in all good conscience, believe in a higher power who would be so cruel as to give these two brave people their happy ending only to rip it away a few short years later.

I only hope that those same cruel gods will honour this brave man in the afterlife and that maybe….maybe I’ll see you again up there. So go gently into that good night, Captain, and I’ll meet you there. Save me a seat and I’ll buy you a beer.”

Folding the paper and tucking it back into his jacket pocket, Beric saluted to the coffin before making his way back to the pew with his head hung low.

Several hymns later and Jeor swallowed deeply, knowing the time had come for him to speak. A part of him didn’t want the ceremony to finish for it would signal that his son was truly gone. Once his body was buried, there would be no denying that Jorah was no longer among them. Once he had addressed the gathered mourners, all that would be left was for Jorah’s body to be lowered gently into the ground.

“I wish I could stand here and say that I have many happy tales to tell you about my son,” Jeor began, rubbing his lower jaw anxiously. “The truth is that I don’t and for that, I have no one to blame but myself. I wish I could stand here and tell you of all the fond memories I have of our time together…but I have none.”

Jeor cleared his throat and wiped the tear away from his cheek.

“The truth is that I pushed my son away after we lost his mother. I told myself that I was doing the right thing…that I was teaching my son to be strong and brave…that I was teaching him how to be a man.”

Jeor paused again as his bottom lip trembled and he glanced at Daenerys.

“They say that a father should teach his son and it hasn’t been until the last few years that I realised just how wrong I got things when it came to Jorah. My son….my son was the one to teach me that bravery and courage isn’t about having a stiff upper lip, it’s not about being physically strong…it’s about a man’s capacity to love and care and most of all…to forgive what has come before.

That so many people are here today is a testament to the kind of man my son is…_was._ It is to my eternal shame that I wasted so many years to pride and anger. My boy is gone and nothing…nothing will ever repair the damage to my heart…but Jorah lives on in his beautiful girl Poppy and I swear… I swear by the old gods and the new that I will fight for and protect both her and her mother for the rest of my days. I will never again make the mistakes that I did with my son”

Resting his hand on the coffin, Jeor took several shaky breaths. “Rest easy, son.”

* * *

It had been the most painful thing he’d ever done as Jeor watched his son’s coffin being lowered gently into the ground. As the dirt thrown by the mourners covered the dark wooden box, there was no escaping the reality that his son was gone.

Daenerys was inconsolable during the wake and the precession of well-wishers only seemed to rub salt into the wound that her husband was no longer with her. Clutching Poppy tightly, she sat in the corner of the room, looking blankly ahead as people hovered around her.

What Jeor hoped would be a peaceful wake was rudely interrupted by Thoros indulging in one too many glasses of scotch. The reverent silence in the room was disturbed suddenly by the smashing of a glass against the wall.

“Easy, Thoros,” Beric growled, grabbing his friend by the lapels of his jacket, only to be shrugged off roughly.

“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Thoros shouted, bringing the attention of the room onto him.

“This isn’t the time or the place,” Beric continued as he tried to usher Thoros towards the door.

Thoros was not to be deterred. “This is exactly the fucking time. Mormont is gone!”

Beric narrowed his eyes at his old colleague. “Thoros…”

Thoros threw his head back and wailed like an injured animal. “You fucking bastards!” He raged. “You fucking evil bastards….why…why take him?” The anger left Thoros as quickly as it had arrived as the man sobbed pitifully. “Why not me?”

It was then that Jeor realised that he felt exactly the same. He would have done anything to trade places with his son and yet the harsh reality was that he could no more do that than he could bring back Jorah’s mother.

He’d never felt so useless in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not familiar, the poem Missy reads is 'Stop All the Clocks, Cut Off the Telephone' by WH Auden which is literally my favourite poem I've ever read.


	39. There You'll Be

With Poppy in one arm, Daenerys opened the door of the apartment and gave Jeor a tired smile.

“How are my two favourite ladies?” The old man asked, holding his arms out for Poppy, who gleefully grabbed at her grandfather’s coat as she moved toward him.

“We’re doing great, aren’t we Poppy?” Daenerys replied as Jeor followed her through to the kitchen.

Poppy’s only response was to burble at her grandfather and pull at his beard. It was enough to raise a laugh from him. “Do you know what today is, Poppy?”

The young child looked at her grandfather for a moment before turning her attention back to his beard that she seemed to find so fascinating.

It had been twelve months ago to the day that Poppy had been born and while it was a time for celebration, the date would forever be tinged with the agony of Jorah’s passing.

The twelve months since his death were brutal and there were times when Daenerys honestly thought that she would not have the strength to continue without him. Had it not been for the support of Missy and Jeor and the fact that she had Poppy, she doubted she would have made it a single day without Jorah by her side.

After Jorah’s death, Missy took a leave of absence from her job to help Daenerys grieve and to provide a helping hand with Poppy whenever needed. Mary and Stan had also done their fair share of babysitting in an effort to give Daenerys time to come to terms with her loss.

Jeor was a tower of strength and the kind of doting grandad that Poppy needed. He held both mother and daughter while they cried, albeit for different reasons, and had helped with the more clinical aspects of dealing with a death in the family, such as closing down accounts and notifying business associates of Jorah’s.

Beric Dondarrion also kept in contact, but as much as he would have liked to deny it, his hands were full with trying to keep Thoros off the booze and on the straight and narrow, which was proving harder work than it first seemed.

Although the pain never went away, the ache became a little more bearable with each day that passed. In those first few months, Daenerys lived by a mantra- just get through another day.

Poppy was the brightest ray of light in her darkest time and it brought Daenerys true joy to see her little girl reach her first milestones of eating solid foods, learning to crawl and making her first attempts at communication.

Although she made mainly garbled sounds so far, it was a language that Daenerys seemed to intuitively understand and Poppy was always clear in making her needs and wants known. She had no doubt that Jorah would have joked that she took after her mother in that regard.

Poppy had inherited her fair hair, but she clearly had the achingly blue eyes of her father and it was a daily comfort to Daenerys to know that some small part of Jorah lived on in their daughter. There were so many small things that Poppy did that reminded her of the man she had loved like no other.

“Thank you for coming round,” Daenerys said as she made coffee for them both.

Jeor jostled his granddaughter playfully in his arms, earning an excited shriek from her.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Daenerys ran a hand through her hair and frowned. “It’s not like she’s going to understand that today is her birthday.”

Jeor gave her a sad smile. “But we will, and we’ll make sure we take lots of pictures so we can embarrass her when she brings her first boyfriend round to meet you.”

The thought caused Daenerys to laugh, but her levity soon faded when she realised that Jorah would not be able to interrogate any poor boys that his daughter brought home, just as he wouldn’t be able to watch Poppy open her birthday presents each year.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and both Daenerys and Jeor looked at each other, puzzled.

“Were you expecting anyone else?” Jeor asked, handing Poppy back to her mother and walking toward the door.

Daenerys shook her head.

A courier stood on the other side, holding a large box and a padded envelope in his hands. “I have a delivery for,” he paused and looked at the clipboard he was holding, “Poppy Mormont?”

Signing the clipboard, Jeor grabbed the items and brought them to the kitchen table.

“Poppy’s a bit young to be using Amazon, isn’t she?” He said as he eyed the packages suspiciously. His frown slowly turning into a smile as both he and Daenerys recognised the handwriting.

It was Jorah’s.

Opening the padded envelope, a DVD and a folded piece of paper landed in Daenerys’ hands.

_Daenerys,_

_Nothing hurts more than knowing that I won’t be there to see Poppy’s first birthday and I know that it’s no substitute, but I made a little something for the both of you._

_You can expect a package every year on Poppy’s birthday - Olenna knows that she is to follow my instructions to the letter._

_You know that I would do anything to be there with you and that I love you - both in this life and the next. I promise you this, when you’re old and grey I’ll be there standing at the gates waiting to take you across to the other side._

_In the meantime, just promise me one thing - live your life and be happy._

_I love you, always._

_Jorah_

Daenerys wiped away the tears in her eyes as Poppy reached out to touch one.

“It’s just your father being a hopeless romantic,” she said, smiling through her tears.

Although she told Poppy about her father every day, she knew it was no substitute for having him there with them. He would never be able to hold her in his arms or comfort his daughter as she cried. He would never be able to read Poppy a goodnight story or teach her how to ride a bike.

There were so many things he should have been here to do with his daughter, so many things he could teach her, so many things he could tell her that Daenerys couldn’t.

But he was gone and no matter how Daenerys wished otherwise, he would never return to their side. 

Moving to the lounge, Jeor switched on the TV and inserted the DVD, smiling at the vision of his son appearing on the screen. looking far healthier than he had in his last days.

Jorah sat in a room, surrounded by balloons that said ‘Happy Birthday’.

“Hey Poppy, happy birthday!” He said, looking straight at the camera. It was almost as if he was looking straight through the TV screen and right at them.

Although she had only heard his voice once before, Poppy sat still, her eyes focused on the screen.

“I bet your mum and grandpa Jeor are there, aren’t they?” Jorah said.

Poppy gazed at her mother and grandfather.

Jorah laughed. “Just make sure they don’t eat all the cake, ok?”

It was doubtful that Poppy truly understood what her father was saying, but she burbled happily and reached out to get closer to the TV screen.

Jorah’s smile faded. “I really wish I could be there with you, Poppy. More than you’ll ever know….but I want you to know one thing.” Jorah paused to clear his throat. “Your daddy loves you and your mum more than anything else in the world.”

Daenerys bit back a sob as she gently lowered Poppy to the floor and watched her crawl over to the TV screen.

“You’re too young to understand it now,” Jorah began as he wiped away tears from his cheeks, “but there are going to be people out there who are mean and cruel…people who’ll upset you and make you want to cry…but just remember that your mum, grandpa Jeor and I love you no matter what.

I know it’s not enough, but me and you….each year on your birthday, I’m going tell you a story about your mum and I and how you ended up being the most precious thing in the world to us. Some of the stories will make you laugh and some might make you cry, but I want you…” Jorah paused, pointing through the screen, “I want you to know what real love is so that when you’re old enough to start dating boys…or girls, that you’ll never settle for anything less.”

Jorah swallowed deeply. “I’ll be thinking about you and looking out for you and your mum every day until this time next year. I love you, never forget that.”

The screen faded to black and Poppy soon began wailing as the image of her father faded from the screen. Both Jeor and Daenerys felt the loss as keenly as Poppy did, for it seemed as if Jorah had really been there with them in that moment, yet it was obvious that he had recorded the clip several months before his passing.

Daenerys finally brought herself to opening the large box that had been delivered along with the padded envelope and laughed at the amount of party poppers, silly hats and balloons inside. The thought of Olenna having to arrange such a thing brought a watery smile to her face.

Although his body was gone, his spirit lived on in everything around her and though it would never be enough to fill the aching need to be held in his arms once more, Daenerys knew that it would be just enough to see her through the next 364 days until she would see his face again, talking to their daughter as if he were right there in the room.

Poppy looked so much like her father and Daenerys had no doubt that she would continue to be the very embodiment of the man she loved so much. In many ways, he had never left her, for thoughts of him were never far from her mind.


	40. Old and Wise

It was somewhat of a tradition for Jeor to arrive early on the morning of Poppy’s birthday. He would have been lying if he said that he hadn’t been looking forward to this day since the same date 364 days ago.

Even though he was beginning to feel his age, spending time with Poppy and Daenerys had kept him feeling younger than his passing years. As much as he would have given anything to have his son alive and well, spending so much time with Jorah’s wife and daughter had brought him closer to his boy than he’d ever been.

Daenerys was determined to tell Poppy all about her father, almost on a daily basis and now on her fourth birthday, it was clear that Poppy knew the sight and sound of her father as much as if he’d been there with them all along.

Daenerys told both Jeor and Poppy so many stories of their time together and the life that they had shared, no matter how brief it might have been. Even though he felt the twinge of guilt at the years he lost to anger and bitterness, every story Daenerys told brought Jeor closer to knowing the kind of man his son had truly been.

“Happy birthday, Poppy!” Jeor said as his granddaughter opened the door and launched herself at him. Despite the twinge in his recently replaced hip, he lifted her high and twirled her round, much to Poppy’s delight.

“Grandpa!” Poppy squealed.

“And how are my two favourite girls?”

The question earned a smile from Daenerys, he’d asked Poppy the same question on each of her three previous birthdays.

“Good, grandpa!” Poppy said as she kissed him on the cheek. “Mummy made a cake!”

Jeor caught the embarrassed look Daenerys gave him. “I’m no cook like Jorah was,” she shrugged, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Poppy’s been helping me decorate it, haven’t you?”

Poppy beamed proudly before looking serious. “We have to save a slice for Daddy.”

Just as it always did, the comment knocked the wind from both of them. Poppy was still too young to understand that Jorah was no longer with them.

Sniffing back his own tears, Jeor bounced his granddaughter in his arms. “Of course, pet. We always leave a slice for Daddy, don’t we?”

There would soon come a day when Poppy would be old enough to understand the significance of the slice left on the plate. Both he and Daenerys would finally have to admit that they took themselves off to Jorah’s graveside to share the slice of cake between them with a glass of wine for Daenerys and a couple of fingers of scotch for Jeor, toasting the memory of the man they both loved.

Like clockwork, the doorbell rang and although the courier was different each year, the packages they delivered were always the same - a padded envelope and a large box with toys that somehow Jorah had instinctively known Poppy would like.

Poppy jumped up and down in Jeor’s arms and he relented by placing her feet down onto the ground, passing her the padded envelope which she tore open gleefully. Still learning to read and write, Poppy was already able to recognise her own name and took the DVD to the TV, pushing it in and waiting cross-legged on the floor, with Jeor and Daenerys following quickly behind her.

As if to keep up the illusion that he was truly there, Jorah wore a different shirt in each video he’d made for his daughter and Daenerys couldn’t help but laugh when she saw her husband sitting in front of the video camera wearing a ridiculous party hat.

“Happy birthday, Poppy,” he smiled, “how’s my favourite little girl?”

“Daddy, Daddy!” She squealed as her face lit up.

Daenerys smiled as she saw the wry grin on Jorah’s face as he deliberately teased Poppy about how old she was. “How old are you now? Let me think…”

“I’m four, Daddy,” Poppy said, rolling her eyes.

“Look at you,” Jorah said, tears in his eyes as he looked directly through the TV screen and at his daughter. “Look how big my little girl has got.” A look of sorrow crossed his face. “Are Mummy and Grandpa with you too?”

Poppy glanced at them and nodded her head.

“Is Mummy sad?” Jorah asked quietly.

Daenerys had to bite on her bottom lip to stop from sobbing as Poppy nodded her head.

“You and I,” Jorah began as he addressed his daughter once more. “You and I are going to do something that will make Mummy feel better, ok?”

Once again, Poppy nodded her head, her attention on nothing but her father.

Daenerys watched as Jorah held his hand out to the camera until it took up the whole of the screen.

“Put your hand on mine, Poppy,” he said as his breath hitched. 

Poppy did as she was instructed and placed her hand on the TV screen.

“I’m going to give you something. Can you feel my hand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I’m giving you all the love I have for you and Mummy and I want you to go over to her and hug her tight…so tight that you put all of her broken pieces back together. Just like she did for me.”

After a number of moments, Poppy finally turned to her mother and Daenerys had never her seen look so serious. Daenerys felt her bottom lip tremble as her daughter slowly walked over to her and hugged her for all she was worth.

She heard Jorah’s voice coming from the screen. 

“Tell Mummy that she shouldn’t feel sad anymore. Tell her it’s ok.”

“Don’t cry, Mummy,” Poppy said as she continued to hug her mother. “Daddy doesn’t want you to be sad anymore.”

Daenerys could do nothing but cling to her daughter as she sobbed noisily for the man she missed so desperately it hurt. No matter how many days that passed, she would never get over the loss of the man she adored.

Daenerys soon found herself wrapped in another tight embrace as Jeor joined them.

“It’s ok, pet,” he said, putting his arms around both of them.

“I miss him so much,” Daenerys said, burying her head in his chest.

The three of them were so lost in the moment that the sound of Jorah’s voice took them by surprise.

“There’s something else I need you to do for me, Poppy.”

Poppy turned her attention back to the screen immediately and gazed lovingly at her father.

“Ok, Daddy,” she said as she sat in front of the TV.

“You need to know that there are going to be times when you think Mummy is being mean and horrible when she won’t let you do what you want. There are going to be times when you get angry or she gets upset.”

Daenerys frowned, unsure of what Jorah was trying to say.

“There will be times when you’ll think bad things about Mummy and you won’t want to speak to her for a while,” Jorah continued. “I want you to know that Mummy will do those things because she loves you and she wants the best for you.” Jorah paused and let out a small chuckle. “Usually, parents are always right.”

Jeor suddenly felt the sharp pang of guilt at how wrong he’d gotten things with Jorah. He had told himself he did those things for the right reasons and only realized all too late the damage he had done to his son with his careless attitude and harsh words.

The smile suddenly disappeared from Jorah’s face as he cleared his throat, looking away from the camera momentarily before looking directly at his daughter once more.

“Parents don’t always get it right, Poppy,” Jorah said quietly. “Sometimes they get it wrong and the things they do will hurt you and stay with you for the rest of your life.”

Jeor knew without a doubt that those words were directed solely at him. He would never be able to put right the damage he’d caused to his sweet boy, no matter how much he wished he could.

“But I want you to remember, Poppy,” Jorah continued, “I want you to remember that it’s ok to get things wrong…it’s ok to make mistakes and it doesn’t matter who was to blame, you’ll forgive them because no one loves you like your parents do, even when they do the wrong things for the right reasons. My daddy, your Grandpa Jeor, taught me that.”

It was then that Jeor allowed his own grief to flow freely as he cried for his son and the years that had been lost between them. Although he could take none of the credit, to know that Jorah had grown into such a loving and caring man filled Jeor with a sense of utter pride for his boy.

Though he had allowed a few tears to fall here and there, he kept the pain and sorrow that he felt at his son’s passing locked away in a corner of both his heart and mind where it had stayed untouched in the passing years.

Jeor glanced up at the screen as he heard Jorah’s voice once more.

“Poppy, I want you to go and give Grandpa Jeor the biggest hug you can. Tell him not to feel bad or sad anymore…that it’s ok…that there’s nothing left to forgive."

Just like she did for her mother, Poppy followed her father’s instructions and repeated word for word what he said.

His boy, his sweet, precious boy had been the one to finally unlock the shackles of shame and sorrow that Jeor wrapped himself in for far too long.

Jeor clung tightly to his granddaughter, feeling as if a weight was being lifted gently from his soul.


	41. A Thousand Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. We've finally come to the end of this story and I have to admit that it has been one hell of a journey and one that I hope many of you have enjoyed reading, despite the angst.
> 
> Special thanks go to SlytherinHowl who has literally kept me going these past few months. This story would never have reached its conclusion without her and I will always be eternally grateful for her support and friendship.
> 
> I would also like to thank everyone who has read, commented or left kudos for this story. To know that other people read, let alone like my work really is a wonderful thing. So thank you to everyone!
> 
> Writing has always been a hobby for me and while one day I would like to be able to make a little money out of it and actually publish something, I love sharing my work for free by writing fanfic. This may be incredibly cheeky of me to ask, but if you have enjoyed this story you would make me the happiest writer alive if you considered giving a few pennies/pounds/dollars to your local cancer charity.
> 
> Cancer has probably touched most of our lives in one way or another and my hope was to honour the people I've loved and lost to this horrible disease. Cancer treatments are becoming more effective and that has only happened through research that is funded through cancer charities. Those same charities also provide specialist support and nurses for those in greatest need. A few pennies/pounds/dollars could make all the difference.
> 
> You're in no way obligated to make a donation to a cancer charity, but even if only one person does, that small amount of money will make a big difference in the lives of people who live and battle with this disease every day.

Twenty-nine year old Poppy Mormont sat by her mother’s bedside, holding her thin hand as another wave of pain came over the only remaining member of her family.

Her beloved grandfather passed away over a decade ago after suffering a number of heart attacks in the last year of his life and while Poppy had been heartbroken, she knew that he would be happy to be reunited with his son.

To lose her grandfather had been difficult, especially as he had been the only male figure she had in her life after the passing of her father. Her grandfather had been the one to teach her how to ride a bike and scare off any boys she dared to bring home as a teenager, but along with her mother, he had also been the one to tell her so much about the man her father had been.

Poppy had never known her father except for the videos he sent for the first eighteen years of her life. Truth be told, she had begun to realise from around the age of ten that her father was not really talking directly to her during those videos, but keeping up the pretence meant the loss of him was slightly less painful than it have might otherwise been.

Even though Poppy had no memories of ever being held in her father’s arms, her mother had ensured that she knew everything about the man who had died the day that she was born. When she was finally old enough to understand, she would join her mother at his graveside every year to mourn for the man she would never be able to know.

It was obvious to Poppy that her mother would never remarry and from listening to the stories her mother told her and the videos she’d seen of her father, she understood why.

Her mother always told her that she was happy and fine with being alone and yet Poppy could see the truth written clearly on her mother’s face - that she would never love another man the way she had loved her father. Poppy knew it was that reason alone that she chose to stay single. There would be no other man who would ever be enough to replace the man she loved.

Poppy felt guilty when she left for university, but her mother had been insistent that she go and make a life for herself, reminding Poppy that her father would have wanted nothing less for his little girl.

Now an adult in her own right, with a long-term boyfriend and a career in the city, Poppy learned to be independent and yet always called her mother each week without fail. After the passing of her grandfather, Poppy was aware just how few people her mother had around her, especially since her best friend Missy had married and had children of her own.

It had been late last year that Poppy noticed a dramatic change in her mother’s appearance. Visiting for their monthly lunch date, Poppy was concerned at how drawn and pale her mother had looked.

She urged her to see her GP and Poppy broke down in tears when her mother relayed the news that the breast cancer had returned and that it had spread to other areas of her body.

The cancer progressed rapidly and as Poppy sat with her mother’s frail hand in her own, she knew it would only be a matter of days until she would see her mother for the last time. She had taken a leave of absence from work, insisting that she wanted to be with her mother in her last days.

Her mother’s soft voice took her by surprise and when Poppy lifted her gaze, it was obvious that she was looking through her, almost as if someone was standing behind her.

It dawned on her quickly.

Looking over her shoulder, Poppy smiled at her mother. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

The look on her mother’s face told Poppy all she needed to know - her father had kept his promise to wait for her and had come to take her across to the afterlife.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Poppy breathed deeply and squeezed her mother’s hand gently. “It’s ok, you can let go now,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Go with him, Mum.”

Tears dotted the bedsheet as Poppy watched her mother take her last breath and although it broke her heart, to know that her mother was finally reunited with the man she adored would make the pain slightly more bearable.

Finally after years of separation from the man she loved the most, her mother was at peace.

* * *

_An alternate universe several years in the future:_

It was her first day back from vacation and she already had over a hundred emails to look at, all of them from clients demanding her immediate attention, no doubt.

The commute into the city was a nightmare. She had always detested Monday mornings with a passion, but with train strikes across the country, it made the journey to work even more stressful.

It was still early and the effects of the wine she’d drunk last night were making their presence known, so she decided that a shot of coffee would help blow away some of the cobwebs that seemed to have taken up residence in her foggy brain.

She chose the first generic coffee shop she could find, surprised to find it empty, even so early into the working day.

Walking straight up to the till, she did a double-take as she eyed the man behind the counter. Her initial reaction was of surprise when she took in his appearance. Before her stood a tall, bearded man who was at least a foot taller than her. 

“What can I get you, ma’am?” The man asked. He had kind blue eyes and a shy smile on his face as he waited for her response. 

Despite never meeting him before, there was something about him that seemed familiar and more than that, she felt a sense of safety when she looked at him.

She was instantly attracted to him despite him clearly being older than her.

“A skinny latte to take away would be great, thank you,” she replied.

He gave her another shy smile as he picked up a cup and looked slightly embarrassed. “Can I take your name please?”

The question confused her. They were the only two people in the shop. Was he flirting with her?

“Only if you tell me yours first,” she smiled as she saw his shocked reaction.

He rubbed at his chin and blushed. “Um…Jorah,” he said quietly.

“Well then, Jorah. I’m Daenerys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There maybe more of this new AU to come....


End file.
